Flame Rekindled
by Istarnie
Summary: Fëanor reflects upon his time spent in the Halls of Awaiting, and his encounters with Námo Mandos.
1. Chapter 1

**Flame Rekindled. Chapter One**.

(Disclaimer: All of the characters and the world in which they exist are the wonderful creations of JRR Tolkien. All references are from The Silmarillion and HoME 1, 10 and 12. Nothing is mine except the interpretation and the mistakes.)

With thanks to Bellemaine for beta reading.

"Then Fëanor swore a terrible oath. ... 'Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth. On the holy mountain hear in witness and our vow remember, Manwë and Varda!'

(The Annals of Aman. _Morgoth's Ring_ JRR Tolkien. ed. C Tolkien.)

Máhanaxar. Seventh Age. Recalling time spent in the Halls of Awaiting.

Is it now that I am dreaming? Is all the anguish of the many ages past but some trick of my mind? Will I awaken from what has seemed the long shadow of my thoughts, to find her still by my side?

I feel the touch of her fëa entwined with mine; an exquisitely gentle touch, yet one that ever grows in response to me, filling all of my senses with a fierce and joyful longing. I feel the touch of her hands, so small, aye, and so strong - and her breath, warm against my skin. And I move to enfold her in the fire and flame of my being …..

But now all is light! Around me, all is light!

I struggle to cope with the sudden rush of myriad sensations as my disincarnate fëa is enfolded again in hröa. Thus it is that, for a third time, I stand in the Ring of Doom before the Lords of the West.

No dream is this!

- - - - -

I remember it all. I remember my life; I remember my death overlooking the goal unreachable - the peaks of Thangorodrim. What has befallen Moringotho the accursed, I ponder? What has become of my Jewels? But neither thought is the one that fills me to overflowing; that consumes me upon my restoration.

As I struggle to master again my body, to stand before Manwë Súlimo with no semblance of weakness, my mind is focused upon the reason for my return. I would be about that for which I am destined; for which I long. Yet I cannot even put one foot before the other without stumbling.

"Peace, Curufinwë," says the Lady of the Stars. "But a short time it will take for thee to grow re-accustomed to thy form."

Though some things have changed, yet this has not changed about me - I am impatient!

A wry smile touches the face of Yavanna Kementári, though I cannot see her clearly through the swirling light patterns that still surround me. She looks somehow older to my eyes. Worn thin, if such be possible for a Valië.

"Thou knowest enough of the Song to understand that sufficient time will be granted thee, son of Finwë."

Sufficient time? Never will there be sufficient time for what I wish to achieve! Yet I find I cannot even master my voice to give spoken reply to Yavanna. Then Manwë himself leans forward; from his golden throne he addresses me:

"Curufinwë; thou dost remember who and what thou art?"

I remember! As I needs must wait upon my voice and my full strength to return, it seems I have time to remember _all _that has gone before….

I remember the timeless 'time' - the immeasurable days sitting in the shadow of my memories in the Halls of Awaiting. For some mayhap, is it a period of gentle rest, of peace and kindly ministering? But for me, nay! How could it have been?

A battle of wills it had long seemed. At first, a battle with the realisation of my failure; then with isolation and despair, and then with Námo Mandos himself as I came to fully understand my own folly. And finally - finally had I realise where my weakness, and my _real_ strength lay. Indeed, I knew without doubt where my _strength_ lay.

I had dwelt not upon the memory of how I was slain. Once freed of my body my fëa had been confronted with the truth of how certain things were. No sudden and complete awareness had I experienced, but no longer had delusion held such a sway over me. And I had known with profound clarity that the Noldor could in no way overthrow Moringotho, even as the Herald of Manwë had proclaimed. Fool had I been that I had realised it not, nor planned better, but thrown all my might and power away in a useless pursuit.

Anger and bitterness! My companions they were for many a 'day' after first accepting the truth - that I had been defeated not by my enemies, but by my own rashness. Anger against the Deceiver for what he had achieved; bitterness at what I began to see he had achieved through me.

And hate! Filled I was with hate for the one who had taken so very much from me. Filled also with a growing sense of emptiness.

Though some others of my host had died in battle, no other spirit was there with me in that place that I could perceive. None with whom to converse in the manner of fëar; so was I truly alone. Trapped, with but my memory and anger was I.

'You will not humble me, Námo Mandos! Though you bring all your will to bear upon me yet will I resist. As I defied you when first you summoned me to Máhanaxar, I will defy you now!' That thought of stubborn self-will held me fast in purpose for some time - or for no time - it came to be all the same.

No answer, no reply was given me.

There was a moment when I almost wished Mandos _would_ speak with me; would reveal his presence even to pronounce a damming judgement. I began to wonder if I were truly in his Halls, in the place appointed for the Eldalië who were slain. Mayhap I was cast into the Everlasting Darkness as I had expected to be, as I had called upon Eru, upon Ilúvatar himself to doom me? Yet I had felt the summons at the moment of my hröa's destruction. My spirit had consumed my body in its fire as it sped away, into the West. It had not even occurred to me to resist that call.

_She_ had been there in fëa; she had called to me. She had reached along the remnant of the silver-gold thread of our union to be with me in those last moments, though I tried to drive her from me that she felt neither the pain nor the sundering. But there were none now who called to me, who reached out to touch me, to condemn or to console.

Ai! What consolation could I expect: I, whom they considered the rebel, the disdainer of the Valar, the chief instigator of the kinslaying, and the betrayer of my own people? Though I had judged myself justified in all my actions, had scorned the judgement of others, yet had I realised how many had resented and hated me.

Then the memories began in earnest; the perception of a torrent of colour, of sound, and of emotions. My life as it had been: my grief over the loss of my mother, my love for my father, my distain for Indis and those who were her children. I beheld in my thoughts the works of my hands that so enthralled me. I thought upon how I had busied and delighted myself with often little consideration for family or friends; and I felt again the sense of overwhelming pride in my ability to create. Much had I undertaken; much had I accomplished through the drive of the fires of my heart, and for my own gratification. But also had it always been for my father's approval and honour. And his love! _Always_ had I wanted his love first and foremost.

As I thought upon my father I wondered how proud of me he had been at the end? What had he truly thought of me when he stood alone upon the steps of my house at Formenos facing his doom? Did he believe me to have deserted him at need? Never would my father have deserted _me_; never would he be parted from me for long. Never did he question whether I was guilty of that which they accused me or no. Not as she did!

As I pondered, the timelessness endured. And so did I.

I remembered her when first we met. She had been keeping vigil upon the hillside as if she had awaited me from the dawn of time; her brown hair lit with the radiance of Laurelin like some wild fire-fay. From the moment I first beheld her I had known she was the one I would have as my wife. Some had earlier told me that the daughter of Urundil was no great beauty, but beautiful to me was she in form and in mind; her eyes bright with desire for knowledge; her heart radiant with love of life.

Then my memory altered abruptly. I beheld her with tears upon her face as she pleaded with me to release Lastamo from the crushing mastery I had of his thoughts; which caused him to gabble incoherently like a babe. Again, I beheld her distress as I moved in anger to strike Ecthelion a blow that would send him reeling across the floor of my study - to strike he who had betrayed me to my half-brother.

"Dost thou not see, my dear lord, the descent into folly of this path thou hast chosen?"

Had any other but she - but my father - so spoken, they would have known the full measure of my wrath. But she, … always so determined to hold me to the noblest course; always so persuasive of manner …

I beheld her pleading with me at the last, to leave at least one of our children with her. Angry with me and wilfully resolute had she been, yet knowing I would not alter my course for her. Angry also was she that I chided her for obeying the will of the Valar, rather than of her husband – that I called her 'false wife'.

'Better off art thou without me, lady,' thought I bitterly, 'for truly dids't thou say that I was a bringer of grief unto thee.'

I thought then that I heard the cries of our youngest son - of Telufinwë. From a flaming white ship under a starlit sky I heard him calling to me, though I beheld him not. Was his fëa somewhere in the vastness that surrounded me, sitting in the shadow of thought of the father who slew him? Would I find him again in this place and be able to tell him of my dismay? Only in solitude had I been able to express my grief for his loss. However personal a tragedy had befallen me, I _had_ to be strong. A king was I, leading my people into a dark and dangerous land. An oath I had to fulfil that would brook no compromise. I wondered if Telufinwë would ever understand?

The memories moved on apace: first a recollection of the loneliness of my childhood years; then of threatening Rúmil in the Hall of the Loremasters; then again of the blood and death I left in my wake at Alqualondë. Kanafinwë had said that Telufinwë found it hard to take rest - that the memory of what he had done at Alqualondë was ever with him. Though I never so spoke, I wondered that it was not with them all? It was always with me! And also the cries: I heard the cries of the dying Teleri in every sea bird, every gull we encountered from that time forth.

'I regret requiring such ignoble deeds from the Noldor; but the action was needful.'

Did none understand?

My answer was a memory of the flames of Gothmog. Wrapped in fire was I, and unable to break free. 'You will not master me!' my fëa cried out as I struggled to control my thoughts. 'Even if this memory is to be my constraint.'

But none did give me reply.

Time: in that place it was almost as I remembered the Gardens of Irmo Lórien. Timelessness there was; a moment as a hundred years, a hundred years as a moment. But in Lórien had there ever been a gentle light. Mazes of yews and tall pines there were in abundance, with fields and meadows full of fumellar. The lakes were lit with reflected light of the stars of Varda, and many spirits abounded seeking to heal and bring peace to any they encountered. In Lórien I had rarely been alone. With my father had I travelled to visit the still form of my mother; and I had taken _her_ there, soon after we were betrothed - that she understood my pain.

The memory of my parents sparked a new line of thought in me. My father should be in the Halls of Awaiting. My mother also should be here! Why was I not aware of either of them? It was said by the Wise that great love bound fëar in the seeming death. Surely great love bound fëar close?

But mayhap awareness would not be permitted me by Mandos? Mayhap it was thought best to keep me from both parents. And what could I say to either if I _were_ allowed?

'Behold father; I have brought the Noldor to a place where they can regain their freedom; back to that place thou dids't lead them from. Though I have not overthrown the Enemy and avenged thy death, nor reclaimed my Jewels as I so desired; yet have I been slain in the attempt. I have lost my youngest son to the flame of my anger, but the others are still with our people. Still will those six seek to avenge us both. Nelyafinwë is king. He will hold true to his oath.'

Was _that _what my beloved parents wanted to hear from me?

The folly of those thoughts filled me with bitterness. I hated Moringotho; I hated Nolofinwë for what he had driven me to do. I hated the jealous Valar for desiring my Jewels and for keeping the Noldor as vulnerable children at their parent's knees. But most of all I found I increasingly hated myself for my failure to achieve what I had set out to do.

Then one thought came to me that was not, could not be of my own. No memory of that event I ever had, or possibility of its occurrence had I conceived. So did I know I was indeed in the company of Mandos rather than abandoned to the Darkness. Little comfort did that thought bring me, however. An image I perceived, that was all; of Nelyafinwë bound by the wrist to a precipice of that accursed mount, Thangorodrim.

And I yearned most desperately for restoration with my hröa. If I could have spoken or striven with Mandos, I would have demanded to be returned. More the fool I, to think I could still so command. Though my fëa protested, demanded, howled with rage; none there were who paid heed. None paid heed to my anguish for my eldest son.

I hated Eru in that moment: that He had seen fit to make me at all.

It came to pass that I exhausted my anger and my grief; so I thought. Nothing was left to me but to endure. I recalled then the words of the 'Doom of the Noldor', spoken by Mandos, that in his Halls long would we abide and yearn for our bodies. I knew that no swift attempt would be made to restore me to my physical form, as I believed was my right; yet neither could I _truly_ die within the lifetime of Arda. So long, and with no hope, thought I. It was like staring into the abyss! Whether Eru doomed me or no, I would not dance to the decrees of Námo Mandos, but take what little control I could of my situation. Of my own will I would lose myself in the darkness of oblivion.

One last thought would I indulge in; one last freely chosen memory before the desire for complete extinction took over. One last memory…yet was it one that took me by surprise even as I made the choice.

She stood in the doorway of my smithy, clad in a simple white robe that clung becomingly to her form. Her unbound hair was curling in the heat; a wild mane of copper-lit brown hair it was. And on one hip she was balancing the small form of our son whose hair, a far brighter hue of that same colour, was also curling at the nape of his neck.

Sharper than any torment was the beauty of that moment.

"These gems thou hast made bring more beauty and light into Aman that they are truly a wonder. But I disagree with thee." she had said in regard to the small, white stones I had set before her. My thoughts snapped back to that happy encounter.

Then she was passing the resting child to me with much tenderness; though the expression on her face was one of firm determination to match her strength of will to my own. My son, my eldest son: he who, if the image were true, hung in wretched abandonment at the pleasure of Moringotho.

"_Here_ is the most wonderful of thy creations, Finwion!"

Pain, like nothing even the flames had done to me, raced through my thoughts. Such loss! So much had I lost when I let her walk away from me.

"I had forgotten." I found I was whispering, repeating my answer of long ago. As voiceless words into the void it was, but the memory gained strength.

"Whatever didst thou forget, my lord?" questioned she in a bantering tone. Never did I forget anything, and the idea had amused her.

"I had forgotten how much I love thee."

And I had forgotten how much I loved Nelyafinwë.

Ai! If I had voice I would have screamed those words out as a last defiance. I would have, should have, whispered them with my last breath to the sons that sat by me in silent vigil, and spoken in thought to she who had never truly forsaken me. How far into the Darkness must I have been not to realise that?

No sooner had understanding come to me than there was a sense of another 'being' drawing nigh. I felt as if I were trembling with a mixture of anger and frustration, though without a body, that could not be.

It was not her; neither was it Nelyafinwë, I knew with some relief. How could it be? She, I knew from our final touch of fëar, was alive in Eldamar.

It was, however, another I had occasion to know.

'At last!' Námo Mandos' well-remembered voice echoed through my fëa. 'At last, spirit of Fëanáro, son of Finwë, we can begin!'

- - - - - -

Curufinwë - Fëanor

Moringotho - Morgoth

Nolofinwë – Fingolfin

Fumellar – Sleep flower. Poppy.

Telufinwë / Telvo - Amras

Kanafinwë / Káno - Maglor

Nelyafinwë / Nelyo - Maedhros.

Fëa / Fëar - Spirit, singular and plural.

Hröa. – Body.

Finwion – Childhood name of Fëanáro that Nerdanel sometimes uses as a term of affection.


	2. Chapter 2

**Flame Rekindled. Chapter Two**

(Disclaimer: All the characters and the world they live in belong to JRR Tolkien. All references are from The Silmarillion and HoME 10 and 12. )

With thanks to Bellemaine for beta reading.

"Mandos you hold to be the strongest of all that are in Arda, being the least moved, and therefore you have dared to commit even the Marrrer himself to his keeping. Yet I say to you that each fëa of the Children is as strong as he; for it hath the strength of its singleness impregnable (which cometh to it from Eru as to us): in its nakedness it is beyond all power that ye have to move it if it will not."

(Nienna: The Later Quenta Silmarillion. _Morgoth's Ring_. JRR Tolkien. Ed C Tolkien.)

Mahanaxar. Seventh Age. Recalling time spent in the Halls of Awaiting.

'At last spirit of Fëanáro, son of Finwë, we can begin,' had Námo Mandos said.

I had little concept then of what was to follow. Though I knew well the power of the Valar, I feared them not. Neither did I hold _that_ one, nor any of his kind in any regard. And I knew as well as any, I knew from my study of the Valar's debate on the sundering of my parent's marriage, that the fëa of a child of Eru could not be broken nor forced against it's will. Eru Ilúvatar would not permit it, even by that stern Doomsman.

'_Begin_ then, jail master,' I replied in thought. 'Your wish it was to constrain me while I walked the lands of Aman and thereafter - now do you have that wish. But think not that, even so disadvantaged, I am without all will or strength.'

A grim pleasure did I momentarily experience; to know I could _still_ deny Mandos in some manner - to have a focus, even one so poor, as a reason to exist. But as I spoke the image that was my memory of her warmth, that was the beauty of our firstborn babe, faded beyond my attempt to hold it fast.

'Desire for love and desire for power do not abide well together, as thou must know. Aye, spirit of Fëanáro, the lies of Melkor thou shalt yet unlearn in bitterness.' The voice of the appointed judge echoed those of the herald of Manwë to me upon my departure from Tirion. Then he also was gone from my presence

Nothing began.

I waited. What else was there, for I could _do_ nothing but wait upon memories and upon the Valar? Nothing happened - no word, no image came to my thoughts from beyond. No rebuke, no condemnation nor sentencing was there. Alone in the shadow of my memories was I.

Then of a sudden I was as part of a living picture, and one where all my senses of perception were restored. I was with my father, a young child again, running eagerly to him across the mosaic-floored hall of his house. He picked me up and spun round, holding me up as if to the heavens, as if he would give thanks to Ilúvatar Himself for my being.

"Finwion; my beloved son! Greater than any gift possible art thou to me," my father had said.

His love was set upon me in abundance. I was his pride and his joy. That he, who was _himself_ most mighty in thought, in strength and in words, should think so of me, filled my heart with joy. To the side of the hall sat my mother with some few of her ladies, each engaged in broidery. She smiled at the sight before her, overcoming for that moment her constant weakness. Solemn child though I oft was; I had laughed with delight.

Then that bright memory faded.

'Atar; amillë?' I uttered hopefully. But they were not with me.

'They should be here,' I thought again. I knew they should both be in the place of awaiting. Why was I not reunited with those whom my heart loved best?

There was a haze as of mist, as my memory changed abruptly to the arrival of my sons at Máhanaxar after the Long Night began. Most angry was I at what had befallen, for I had been led hence by a false word at the command of Manwë, to be hemmed in by my enemies.

"Speak, O Noldo, yea or nay! But who shall deny Yavanna?' Tulkas had demanded of me.

'Give over the greatest works of thy hands; give over the Silmarils that they be broken, and we will again have the Light!'

I had felt them all bend their will to that end. As Moringotho had portrayed them, they seemed to me in that moment. Jealous thieves, whose sole aim was to take from me the perfection _I_ had created. Though I dismissed the Enemy from the door of my house once I saw through his semblance of friendship, I was not fool enough to believe I could dismiss _all_ the assembled Lords of Arda. But neither would I give over _my_ Jewels to those kin of the jail-crow? Nay, not even for the healing of the Trees. To my eyes the Trees' possible light was polluted beyond recall to wholeness. How could that which was utterly marred and darkened be yet rekindled? But a final ploy did I consider it to be - another attempt by the Valar to control the Eldar. I would _not_ give over my Jewels of free will.

Then Nelyafinwë was there - hot and dirtied from fast and furious riding. His hair was dishevelled, his face a mask of pain.

I had known! Before he spoke a word, I had known.

"Blood and darkness!" he cried to all who were assembled, though it was I whom he sought. "Finwë the King is slain, and the Silmarils are gone!"

Nothing could have prepared me for _that_ onslaught! Overcome with anguish was I, that I thought to die from the pain. And I fell upon my face, in the dust, as if all life and light had been drained from me. Mayhap it was _then_ I was slain?

Such a high price I paid for answering Manwë's summons! I had been not at Formenos to defend of my own when the Enemy came upon them – for no other Elda could have stood against Moringotho and prevailed. My Jewels were taken from their place of safekeeping – my beloved Sire was slain, and in a manner most vile! As Moringotho had taken it upon himself to crush my father's head, so was my heart crushed in that instant with grief immeasurable. And I had risen to my feet only to run from that place seeking solitude in which to give vent to my tears and my un-healable hurt.

I had _wanted _to die.

Then it was that the anger flamed in me again, that I saw how the Valar had betrayed my father and I. I had thought to end my own life. But the anger and hate gave me purpose anew.

'I will avenge thee, dearest king and father. I will redress the wrong done to thee and to thy people. ' I had thought. And I would follow the one who had taken my father's life in order to steal my Jewels for himself – aye and any other who laid hand to them save my sons. I would seek out the murderer, the thief, unto the very ends of Arda - Vala though he be!

Silence.

The quality of darkness altered that I knew myself aware only of the place of my confinement again. No movement - no possibility of change was there in that world in which I existed. A solitary captivity for the duration of Arda with my anguish and regret played forth time and time again; was that to be my doom? What difference then was this place from the Everlasting Darkness?

"Atar!" my heart cried out in desperate longing to behold him again.

So very much did I want to be reunited with my father. So much did I want to speak with him of what had transpired at Formenos – to tell him I despised myself for failing him; that I loved him more than my own life.

In that early solitude in the Halls of Awaiting, my thoughts would not leave him. Time and again did I make recall of incidents when we had been together; he and I. The chosen ambassador of Oromë, the chosen and beloved king of the Noldor he had been. The greatest king he was in my heart then, and always. Nolofinwë had agreed to rule in Tirion; aye, that was true. But no king was he! Never had that half-brother of mine been a ruler of half the stature and nobility of our father, and for _much_ time had it been in his thoughts to usurp the throne. In his jealously, his envy of me, did that second son see our father set aside his kingship, that _he_ might become the chosen _pawn_ of the Valar.

'And now mayhap, Nolofinwë has what he desires,' thought I. For he would have hurled his rage and enmity at me across the great sea, but in the end he and his followers would have crawled back to their cage. So did I think him likely to be forgiven and restored - to be acting 'ruler' again in the thraldom that was Eldamar.

"Atar!"

But _that_ desperate call had been to, and not of, my own fëa. "Forgive me atar, for again have I failed thee."

I tried to focus my thoughts, to summon my will and strength to answer his cry. But I could _do_ nothing.

Again I had vision of him; of Nelyafinwë, hung from that precipice by a band of steel upon the wrist of his right hand. Gaunt of feature was he, and bearing signs upon his body of much mistreatment: of long without water or nourishment or any act of kindness.

High upon the precipice did I perceive him to be - so far beyond the reach of any possible aid. For Nelyafinwë to be captured thus must have meant the others were, at the least, scattered. Most likely it meant that Kanafinwë, who ever watched his elder brother's back, was dead.

I was nigh lost to despair at that sight, and wished -- ai -- I wished, I hoped, for so many things: for Turkafinwë to take up the leadership, (_not_ the kingship - that was my firstborn's by right, while he drew breath.), for an attempt to be made to reclaim Nelyafinwë's freedom. But idle, useless speculation it all was for one who was powerless.

Then again the presence that was Námo Mandos was impinging upon my consciousness. A cold and distant observer did he seem.

'My eldest son suffers torment beyond endurance,' I spoke in resentful tone. 'Will you not find a way to end his suffering now? Or is it the purpose of the Valar to humiliate him for my deeds; to shame my House by allowing Moringotho such a trophy of victory over Eldar and Valar alike?'

No answer was forthcoming.

'Then tell me at least if any other of my sons yet live?'

A deep sigh did it seem the Vala uttered then, and he spoke forth.

'We will begin!'

'Nay - we will not! Not until I know what has happened, that my sons appear to desert their appointed king against all I ever taught them to do.'

'Thou hast asked, and this answer will I give thee. Nelyafinwë is still captive because thy other sons will not make barter for him. In so refusing, they show wisdom. But neither will they waste time set aside for that main purpose of theirs. Are they not constrained by an oath to maintain their war against the Enemy; to reclaim thy jewels and not be turned aside; neither by law, nor love, nor league of swords; dread nor danger nor Doom itself?'

The oath! The oath it was that kept Nelyafinwë so constrained?

'Neither for love of their brother may thy other sons turn aside from their purpose. We will begin,' repeated Mandos.

No note of pity or of sorrow was there in his voice. No appeal could be made to him; I knew that well. I would not have done so for myself. Neither could I plead for my son, though the pain of memory was sharp, and for an instant did I again look down upon a wide-eyed, tussle haired infant in my arms. One whose first word so pleased me. One whose first word was 'Atar!'

But I knew from the Vala that my other sons yet lived, and were no captives.

So I thought to play Mandos at his own game. He wanted, no doubt, to bring me into a state of supplication and servility - a trophy of his own. I, for my part, wanted to know what transpired with my sons and their effort against Moringotho to reclaim my Jewels. Though I trusted Mandos no more than I believed my sons trusted the Dark Enemy, yet would I match wits with him. We would see who prevailed?

'So be it,' said I.

'We will begin with thy memories of Nolofinwë.'

Almost did I laugh with contempt! No more should I have expected from Námo Mandos than he would lead me to consider that oath-breaker; that cause of much of my grief.

'Some barter is this, that I forgive my half-brother and give my blessing on his useless kingship in Aman? Is that what you want in exchange for an end to Nelyafinwë's torment?'

No answer came from the Doomsman, but more memories flooded my mind. I knew then what was expected - for he could not force me to relive any particular occurrence. Yet was he not inviting me to so do, and with a promise mayhap, as reward for my cooperation?

Nolofinwë? So would it be! And mayhap I would show my jailer what a poor choice the Valar had made in supporting one so untrustworthy as my half-brother.

- - - - -

Atar – Father

Amillë – Mother

Moringotho – Morgoth

Nelyo / Nelyafinwë / Maitimo – Maedhros

Turko / Turkafinwë – Celegorm

Káno/ Kanafinwë – Maglor

Notes:

There is a possible contradiction regarding the manner of Finwë's death. In 'Laws and Customs' it says his body was burnt as by a lightening stroke, and destroyed. In the Later Quenta Silmarillion it has his head crushed as with a great mace of iron. In notes to the Later Quenta, it is suggested the accounts may not be wholly contradictory, as Maedhros sees flame out of the cloud of Ungoliant, and finds Finwë's sword twisted and untempered as if by lightening.


	3. Chapter 3

**Flame Rekindled. Chapter Three.**

(Disclaimer: All of the characters and the world in which they exist are the wonderful creations of JRR Tolkien. All references are from The Silmarillion and HoME 1, 10 and 12. Nothing is mine except the interpretation and the mistakes.)

With thanks to Bellemaine for beta reading.

"But at that last word of Fëanor: that at the least the Noldor should do deeds to live in song for ever, he (Manwë) raised his head, as one that hears a voice far off, and he said: 'So shall it be! Dear-bought those songs shall be accounted, and yet well-bought. For the price could be no other…' …. But Mandos said '..To me shall Fëanor come soon.'"

(Of the Sun and Moon and the Hiding of Valinor. _The Silmarillion._ J.R.R. Tolkien ed C. Tolkien, HarperCollins.)

Máhanaxar. Seventh Age. Recalling thoughts from the Halls of Awaiting.

Nolofinwë! As a thorn in the flesh was he unto me!

That half-brother, that eldest son of Indis, was he not the cause of many of my 'ill' deeds? They said _I_ was proud, and I deny it not. Much did I have to be proud of! But he also was proud, and _jealous_ of all I that had and of all that I was. Did he not plan against me, _and_ against our father? Unnatural son - product of an unnatural union - a disgrace to the Eldar! Full of bitterness was he that our father loved me best. And if he could not turn our father's heart against me through his constant accusations, then he would see the kingship of Finwë himself denied.

For years I strove with him, to keep him in his due place that he brought no dishonour upon our sire. But from the time he realised that all in Aman regarded my creations with wonder; from the time that Varda hallowed the Silmarils, he feared the extent of my might. From _that_ time onwards he began his plotting to supplant me, to drive all those of my line out from Tirion. From that point forth did he mean to be uncontested king! For trusting in his Vanyar blood, he always thought himself greater than I – greater than a child of Míriel Þerendë - greater than any _mere_ Noldo.

Though I made no secret that I had little love or regard for his person, and I understood his hatred of me, (never was he in any way greater than _this_ Noldo, no matter what he attempted) - yet I could not understand how he who would be first before our father in all things, turned to the Valar for support to unking the one who was his sire.

'So, Doomsman; it is the 'false king' you would have me ponder?' I had mused dryly, thinking it best to restrain my full contempt for my jailer until I knew what would befall Nelyafinwë.

My cause of quarrel with Námo Mandos had something of a history beyond events at Máhanaxar. Never had he understood me. Never had he any love for me. And did I not know of Mandos' very words spoken at that debate concerning the sundering of my parent's union? Had he not said:

"Aulë nameth Fëanáro the greatest of the Eldar, and in potency that is true. But I say unto you that the children of Indis shall be great, and the tale of Arda more glorious because of their coming."

Aye, that and more concerning Indis and her then unborn children did he speak, and against my mother's return. Betrayer of my father's trust, and of my _life_ was he.

Reason enough I had to despise Námo Mandos.

Now no guarantee did I have that my collaboration would make any difference to the suffering of my son. Mandos gave no promise – none could he have given that I would have trusted. In truth, the Valar had chosen not to act upon the murder of my father, upon the darkening of the Trees; why should they now change their course of inactivity to confound their kindred's will? But ever mindful was I that my eldest son suffered pain and humiliation beyond measure. Naught was there I could do to aid him; naught save play that jailer's game.

Neither weakling nor craven was Nelyafinwë. That he would endure to the utmost I was certain. But what father wishes his son to suffer so? And he was needed: I _needed_ him to act in my stead. I wanted him back in command of the loyal Noldor I had led to the Hither Lands. I wanted he and his brothers to confound Moringotho as much as they may, to wait and to watch upon their chance to reclaim my Jewels. Though I knew then they could not defeat the Dark Lord outright, yet could they still cause him such hurt as would be the making of song unto the End. For love of their sire and of their grandsire could they so do, as well as for their oath.

A chance there was, albeit unpromising, that those silent watchers who had condemned me for pursuing the enemy - _their_ enemy as well as mine, would yet have a measure of compassion for Nelyafinwë Fëanárion. So was it needful for me to play Mandos' game for that time with all the skill I possessed.

'As you ask, so shall I do – for as long as it please me!' I gave the awaited reply.

A memory there was then, a fleeting, wisp-like recollection that took upon itself more depth and solidity, and of Nolofinwë as a youth in the king's house. I saw him standing to one side, as our father welcomed me with open arms. A time of the festival of late gathering of fruits it was, supposedly of much merrymaking; and merry was my father that I had gone to share celebrations with him that year. Happy was I to be in _his_ presence, yet the taint that was Indis and her children was also, of necessity, there.

My memories of that occasion were of much speaking with my father, and of my lady's intervention that what was become a sombre parody of praise to Eru and thanks to Yavanna, gained joy and delight. Of the light, warm touch of her hand upon my arm, I thought - of her words of encouragement that we two dance as an example to all. But as I remembered her touch, again did she fade, that her wisdom and comfort were denied me.

'Thy memories of Nolofinwë are those thou needs must consider.' The less warm and less welcome suggestion came to me from Mandos.

I gave him no reply, but continued to recollect what I would.

Sullen did Nolofinwë appear to my eyes as he loitered at the edge of the hall, watching the dancers that had taken to the floor following my lady and I. Was that what Mandos wanted me to contemplate, the sullenness of my half-brother? That could I do with no great effort. But as I further watched him, I saw fleeting pain cloud his expression as he was all but ignored in conversation by my father and certain of his lords – as all others in that place looked to me to lead the revelry.

'I know what you do!' I protested. 'Ever was Nolofinwë with my father. And every day that he so wished could he speak with his king. What is wrong that I, who was there but rarely and am Finwë's firstborn, should be welcomed with honour? Do you not see how filled with envy of me my half-brother was from his childhood?'

No answer came to me. No acknowledgement of my point.

Nothing.

'Come!' thought I, 'this becomes irksome that you require I consider a matter, yet will not follow through with what I am supposed to recall. That you say 'Begin' yet will begin naught!'

A feeling; a sensation of something vaster in space, higher and wider and more powerful than anything I had ever known, did I experience; as if Mandos knew my intentions, and thought to show me my smallness before him that I treated that encounter in all earnestness.

'I am not a feared of you, stern spirit' I spoke as I felt, holding much to my stubborn pride and my small knowledge of the will of Ilúvatar. 'No matter what form or dimensions you take upon yourself, yet do I know your move and nature. But as of now am I of a mind to pay you heed, so show what you will have me consider, or will I begin by showing you?'

I gave him no more chance, but cast my thoughts back through the years. Strange it was! I had thought to have very many memories to show the Doomsman, yet rarely had it seemed Nolofinwë was even in my thoughts in the days before Moringotho was loosed. Had I not even cared to know he existed for many of the earliest years. But I must have focus for my mind to make my case.

So I showed my recollections of my half-brother, and he at that table of planning with his lords. Just after that time he had instigated the abduction of Turindë it was, when I came upon him in my father's house, and he unprepared. There had been no grounds for my mistrust of Nolofinwë some had said; she who was my wife had said! Yet was that not evidence? That he had intended to so gain knowledge of my plans to contain him in exchange for the release of Morifinwë's lady, to discredit me before our father.

A short, sharp image was my reply from the Doomsman - of Morifinwë striding into the great hall of Lord Ettelendil's house, and that lord at late meal with his advisors. My fourth son had roughly grasped two of those advisors and thrown them aside. Then, in his anger, he overturned the large wooden table at the head of the hall. As Turkafinwë restrained a guard foolish enough to think he could intervene, and Curufinwë stood watch on the door, Morifinwë's hand closed around the throat of the one who had so underestimated us, and my son lifted him high off the ground.

'I _know_ the abduction was undertaken by Ettelendil's men,' I retaliated to that most satisfactory interruption. 'But that ignoble lord was following my half-brother's orders to gain him leverage over me. Nolofinwë did not control his lords' or captains' methods of gaining information -not as I controlled mine. He thought only to bring me down and to use whatever means he could to glean knowledge on the rumours of my latest forging. That his servants would act so dishonourably is but a reflection upon him. Never would any of my servants, nor servants of my sons have so acted. Never would they have so abused a nís, or a hína.'

'Have a care, O Noldo; for swiftly it seems thou dost put aside the slaughter of the Teleri, and of nér and nís and hína alike. By thy own words dost thou condemn thyself.' Mandos' tone was a most grave rebuke.

'Thou didst remind me and of late, that it was of Nolofinwë I should ponder. This I do! Thou hast not bidden me think upon the Teleri. And that action at Alqualondë; it was needful!' So I returned his rebuke with some measure of sarcasm. Though as I spoke, I felt a sense of heaviness of fëa that, needful act or no, I could still hear the screams of the dying.

A few moments it was before Mandos made further comment. 'Thou knowest not all of what thou dost speak, spirit of Fëanáro. Not of the Teleri have I bidden thee to ponder, not as yet. And a bitter cup will that be to drink when I so ask of thee! But neither is it the deeds of Ettelendil I ask thee to consider, but of Nolofinwë. Do thou proceed.'

A distance did Mandos seem to withdraw from me. Not a distance in location as such – but one in intensity. I suspected he saw not the point I would make, or considered it invalid. Well then, thought I; of need would I show him that which he must already know, but chose not to mention. I would show him what had happened to my son's wife, Turindë.

I showed him my memories of that day upon the edge of the plains of Valinor, south of the Calacirya, and on the lands that formed the estate of Lord Ettelendil. After a long pursuit of Ettelendil's servants - nigh unto view of the woods of Oromë - Morifinwë, Turkafinwë and Nelyafinwë had brought them to bay. At the point where Curufinwë, Tulcavaryar, and I had caught up did those servants plan to confound our purpose by stampeding a herd of grazing bison in our direction. Was that not an act of violence? Did they not intend to wound us most grievously?

'You who said at Máhanaxar that _I_ was violent; did I not have cause to be? And do you not know, not recall, that Turindë they had tied fast to the back of one of the beasts they had then enraged, that our aim would be her recovery rather than further pursuit of them.'

I could little help the anger I still felt at witnessing such a deed, though did I again think back to myself cutting down those pale Teleri mariners who stood in my way. Swiftly I pushed that thought aside.

'What manner of behaviour is it?' I continued with my reminder, though received no answer, 'that Morifinwë cried in horror; that he who was so easy to show colour became as white of face as the northern ice, the Valar would not understand. Passionless spirits all! You who watch; you who observe our lives and our deeds, yet know not the depths or the fire of the Noldor heart; you who 'play' at taking our form who, it is said, have spouses, but in fëa only, and who beget no offspring - how do you know what it feels like to behold one of your kin so abused? How do you know what it feels like to be a son, or a father, or a husband?'

"Or a brother!"

Mandos was paying me heed, I noted. So I continued.

'Morifinwë would have wrestled the animal to the ground to reclaim his lady from that act of depravity. But thankfully there was no need for such a display. I put forth of my will to slow the pace of the herd, to control their small minds even as Turkafinwë rode in amongst them speaking calm to them, and to the one who bore his brother's wife so that the creature became gentled with no ill effect. Turindë was made safe, and reunited with those who loved her, though she had suffered much and not the least from indignity. And all this is but one example of those acting upon my half-brother's suggestion.'

Silence.

I then showed Námo Mandos my half-brother in the Council of Loremasters shortly before the Great Festival of 1474. He had gone forth and risen to speak - to bring a challenge to my right of keeping the Silmarils in my treasury, rather than handing them to the keeping of the Valar - when he thought me not there. But I knew his plan and would not be distracted from speaking against him, as was my right. Again did I show him with his son, Turukáno, beckoning forward the Lord Ecthelion into their confidence with word of false accusation against me; whispering that it had been I who had caused the riot that had seen over thirty injured in the arena. And speaking with her! I see again at that meal at his house, my half-brother's attempts at deceiving my lady wife that she would confide in he and his mother in their conspiracy against me.

Still was no response forthcoming from Mandos, not to my showing memories of the cunning with which Nolofinwë would conduct himself. But still was that vastness of presence about me.

'Come now, Doomsman' said I 'You must know that my half-brother acted with craft and guile. That he would speak as in one manner before my face, yet would he speak and act in a manner far different when thinking himself alone with his advisors.'

I showed Mandos my memory of that letter: that plan of Nolofinwë's that caused me to rush to our father's house fully armed and with Urrussë at my side. So enraged had I been, knowing that, as ever he would have already spoken against me.

He had feared me greatly then. Feared that he had overstepped the mark in his most careful plans of winning our father's regard. Had he not departed as if pursued by his worst dream, and to his brother's house? Had he not sought the 'wisdom' and support of that younger brother of his?

And he had said before Manwë: 'Thou shalt lead and I will follow' yet meant it not! Nor had I ever been fooled by his insincerity. How would he who would be king, so follow _me_, when it was our father who was truly king? Was our father slain at the time of his words? Nay - he was not!

Nolofinwë had claimed the lordship of all the Noldor as the hosts prepared to leave Tirion. He had caused dissent in the tents of murmuring as our people traversed Araman. He had even added our father's name as a prefix to his own. Finwenolofinwë, in evidence of his claim! Ai! And I should lead, and he _follow_! Nay! Never was that his intent.

'Jailer' cried I in spirit. 'You who support the cause of Indis and her sons as just, rather than that of my mother, see you not how ignoble Nolofinwë came to be? A pawn did you think him, one more servile than I. One who would see my Jewels were given over into your keeping. Yet though he made much complaint on that dark night even to the drawing of swords, did he not in the end join with full will in the rebellion against you? Would he not have traversed the sea, as did I, if he could? Yet I deem you have welcomed his shame filled return to you, even as you will have welcomed the grovelling Arafinwë back in your fold.'

But no reply came unto me. I thought then that I had overstepped the bounds of caution. I thought of certainty the honesty of my manner would have in no way eased the Valar's attitude towards the predicament of my eldest son. None were there to whom I could turn in that moment: no father, no wife, and no counsel.

So did I brood in resentment, for Mandos was immovable and none other were there who could hear me.

Time passed. I thought on the Valar's hatred of me; that they would not show any mercy to any kin or follower of mine. No matter what I said, no matter what I yielded, they would not give of their aid to an Elda who had the boldness to challenge them. I thought of Nelyafinwë's plea to forgive him, and that he suffered for my rashness in engaging Moringotho too soon. That thought evoked a memory of him debating his perception of my rashness in setting fire to the ships - he would take no part in that deed, but stood aside. My feelings were in conflict, that one I so loved and trusted would yet challenge my decisions. Like his mother could Nelyafinwë be at times. Without further warning, the image of him had changed to her, and she standing before me in my room at Formenos. In thought I reached out as if to draw her to me, as I had so wanted to do at the time of the memory, but through stubbornness had not. But I drew memory of her words:

'In Manwë's love art thou, and in his thoughts! How canst thou speak of he and of Melkor in the same breath?'

'Love!' had I replied harshly. 'What sort of love remains silent when I am accused of such wrongdoing, and unjustly.'

I had wanted to hold her; I had wanted to cause her pain with my words for being so distant from me. But of Manwë also had I been speaking. I had wanted to believe that she yet loved me - that Manwë would yet intervene on my behalf to show the truth of matters regarding the weaker race that would defraud us of our inheritance from Ilúvatar. But then the summons had arrived; that command for me to attend the Great Festival upon Taniquetil that cost me all. Was that not proof of Manwë's deception - at the least, of his incompetence?

I pondered further. Little opportunity had I to consider her words in the aftermath of that encounter. Too soon was the consuming darkness fallen that required a response. 'In Manwë's love art thou!' I heard her saying again - words I had wanted to believe in, though all my experience of the Lords of the West told me otherwise. They had cozened and blinded the Eldar that none could deny their will.

So deceived had _she_ been, so blinded by her misplaced loyalty to Aulë and to her father, that I could not reach her with love, or loyalty or command. Wise though she oft times had been, _then_ had I known her to be wrong.

'Manwë loves thee yet….' She had raised her hand to caress my cheek – and I had pushed her aside in my frustration.

The moment seemed frozen in time. I had not hurt her by that action – but ai, how I hurt her through my words. Still did she seem to be waiting upon my response. The image would not change nor alter to that which I knew was to follow.

Then the thought was with me for the first time - what if she had not been totally mistaken? What if Manwë, against all that I believed, loved still the one he had exiled?

A madness it was - another form of madness, unlike that of grief - that thought that came upon me. I would never have yielded any point to my enemies, nay, not to any! But in that instant did I wonder? And if I could have done aught to save my father from death, even beg of Manwë, would I not have so done?

I thought upon Manwë Súlimo. That he alone might yet pay heed to one who had cursed him. In hröa I do not believe I could have uttered such words as I then did; yet in fëa alone did the thoughts take form and almost against my will.

'If ever it were true that I was held in thy love, then look in that love upon my son, who is surely beyond all help of the Noldor. For by so doing would I know indeed, that the words of thy messenger and of she who was my wife were in earnest. I would know that in some matters I had been wrong in my judgement of the Valar.'

Long had it been since I had uttered prayer to the Valar, but those few words asking for Nelyafinwë not to be forsaken did I choke forth as from a tightened throat.

Silence.

It was as I had expected. No answer came to me. No sense of the return of Mandos, or of Manwë acknowledging my cry.

No word!

But a breeze did it seem there was, and a sound as of the beat of large and heavy wings.

- - - - - - -

Nolofinwë / Finwenolofinwë – Fingolfin

Nelyo / Nelyafinwë – Maedhros

Fëanárion - Son of Fëanáro

Hína – child

Moringotho – Morgoth

Moryo / Morifinwë – Carnistir

Turko / Turkafinwë – Celegorm

Curvo / Curufinwë – Curufin

Urrussë - Flame blade (I think)

Arafinwë - Finarfin.

"Aulë nameth Fëanáro the greatest of the Eldar, and in potency that is true. But I say unto you that the children of Indis shall also be great, and the Tale of Arda more glorious because of their coming." The Later Quenta Silmarillion. _Morgoth's Ring_ J. R. R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien. HarperCollins p 274.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Flame Rekindled. Chapter Four.**

(Disclaimer: All of the characters and the world in which they exist are the wonderful creations of JRR Tolkien. All references are from The Silmarillion and HoME 1, 10 and 12. Nothing is mine except the interpretation and the mistakes.)

With thanks to Bellemaine for beta reading.

"But not until the End, when Fëanor shall return who perished ere the Sun was made, and sits now in the Halls of Awaiting and comes no more among his kin; not until the Sun passes and the Moon falls, shall it be known of what substance they (The Silmarils) were made."

('Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor.' _The Silmarillion_ J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed. C. Tolkien.)

Máhanaxar. Reflecting upon memories from the Hall of Awaiting. 

It had seemed cold.

Strange, I had thought; for with no hröa to sense the air or whatever it was that surrounded me, I knew the coldness to be but an impression I was meant to consider - even as had been the beat of wings. Though naught had come to pass, yet had I known the sound of eagle flight when I heard it, and that it was meant to me as a sign of Manwë.

But what sign? Why cold?

Why did I experience the sensation of chill air over much ice, I had thought?

'Do you hold me in the farthest north of your halls, jailer?' I enquired of Námo Mandos, although I discerned not his being. Neither _had_ I since he decided he wanted not to hear my thoughts concerning my half-brother. 'Have you so isolated me in location, that my presence be not an affront to the fëar of the Teleri whom I sent here?'

I was baiting him.

I was trying to gain some response from the Doomsman of the Valar, that I would know of Nelyafinwë and of those others of my sons who still confronted Moringotho. But no pride did I have in that statement. Never was the deed at Alqualondë one in which I took pride. A necessity it had been! Always, since coming to the decision to seize the ships by force, had I known it to be something that would set my feet upon a course I would have avoided. I had wanted the Teleri to join with us; to increase our numbers, not lessen them. For Elda to slay Elda - that had never been my wish. Had they but handed over some portion of their fleet, all slaughter would have been avoided. But they stood in the way of our pursuit of vengeance and freedom. They would not listen. Olwë, he named my father 'friend', but put as little his murder. And Olwë, king of the third and _lesser_ kindred would not listen to the king of the Noldor who asked for his aid in great need.

It was cold. As cold as the time I had ventured with my sons to the borders of the Dark and had come upon the edge of the vast and gleaming frozen lands. I knew the Halls of Mandos to be nigh that location. I had thought _that_ was what he wanted me to ponder upon. But on that matter as on others, was I wrong.

'Thou hast spoken; and that the Valar would welcome the shame filled return of Nolofinwë to Tirion.'

With such a pronouncement did I become aware the encounter with Mandos had resumed, and at his will, rather than mine.

'Speak on. I hear you.'

But Mandos spoke no word in answer. Rather he showed forth an image, even as I had first perceived the predicament of Nelyafinwë.

The Grinding Ice! The Helecaraxë it was that I beheld.

As that vision unfolded I knew with no doubt the reason for the coldness.

'_Never_ did I say the Noldor were a cowardly folk!' I protested, though to behold so many of those whom I had once considered my people, who had long been my father's people, struggling forth across that bleak terrain was an amazement to me.

'Behold how those whom thou didst name as 'needless baggage' strive against the odds? Behold thou their suffering and their loss?'

I watched, for I could do no other, as that multitude progressed across the treacherous ice. I watched as the ice broke, time and again, pitching forth many of the host, and I saw that some were pulled from the maw of the cruel sea, but that many were not. I saw the imperious Turukáno, and he near death himself, lying flat upon an ice flow, clasping desperately to the cloak of his daughter to pull her from the doom that would claim her. I saw Findekáno, and he shouting warning, so that a group made hurried retreat from a sudden fall of ice. I saw how near to death he came as the ice nigh buried him alive.

The sons of Arafinwë I beheld, as they rallied the people with words of encouragement and determination; and breath that froze as they spoke. Haughty Artanis was with them. Hah! Grim of expression was she, as if fired with hate. Well did I know that expression, for it was one she had borne most frequently on those later occasions we had met. Neither did I have any love for her!

Others I saw that I knew, and it seemed to me as if they were crying out in fëa as they struggled forth - that they were crying in anguish and accusation against me, even though it was not I that led them. For at their head, ever leading onwards was Nolofinwë.

'My half-brother and his sons are yet fiery of heart. In this at least, do they show themselves true children of Finwë; that they turn not back from a task no matter how bitter, once set upon it.' So I spoke; yet did I not know that part of the reason for such a daring undertaking was their fear of the Valar's anger over their involvement in the deaths at Alqualondë. Did I not also know that Nolofinwë led them forth out of despite of me?

But I was not to behold the outcome of their travail. Not just then.

'Take counsel with thy thoughts, spirit of Fëanáro, that thou speakest naught of the sufferings of those thou once held to be thy subjects. For was it by the power of thy ill chosen words and by the power of thy will that they set forth.'

'By the power of my words and my will: aye, so it was! And it is by the hate of my half-brother that they progress.' I replied.

Yet did I feel something unexpected – shame? Not for my treatment of Nolofinwë, but that I had all but abandoned so noble a people. Disillusioned with them and with their complaints against me, had I been. I had thought them half-hearted in their pursuit and disloyal. Aye - they were disloyal to me once their memory of my words in Tirion was weakened by whispers and lies. But I should have done more to hold them to my purpose, that Nolofinwë was shown for what he truly was – an oath-breaking liar! And it struck me that mayhap the ships should not have been fired at Losgar; that I should have continued in my struggle against my half-brother, that such a mighty host had been brought safely to the shores of the Hither Lands. With such a host could I have accomplished so much.

Again the presence that was Mandos departed from me for some time. Time, I say; yet little idea had I of its passing. Days, years, ages it could have been.

I hoped all would not perish upon that crossing, yet did I not also see the threat such a number could present to my sons and people, should they reach their goal? Had Nelyafinwë been not captive of Moringotho I would have had little concern, for I deemed my eldest a match for Nolofinwë and his sons. But Kanafinwë, swift and mighty though he was, yet did he have too much of his mother about him at times. I would not that he sought to be understanding of Nolofinwë should he encounter him, but that he met him as leader of the hosts, and acting king in his brother's absence.

Memories came to me unbidden, and that of my sons ridding ahead of me through snowfields. Of Telufinwë, turning upon his horse's back to smile his enjoyment of the expedition. Ice was in his hair of flame-lit brown and upon his eyelashes, for he had not raised the hood of his cloak.

Another memory followed on swiftly, that one accompanied by the brief haze of starlight, and of a meeting with my sons in my tent, upon the barren coast of Araman.

"The murmuring and complaint, they grow with the coldness. Yet our people are strong enough to withstand such a climate. More is it than fall in temperature that causes their dissent." Curufinwë, who stood close by my side, had said.

"Some few do speak of return to Tirion. That there they had warmth and comfort." added Pityafinwë.

"But no warmth nor comfort is there for them to return to. Neither freedom! Would they be thralls for the sake of remembered comfort that was as of caged birds? Nay! We go on, as thou dost lead us father, and seek ways to silence the discontented for their own good." Turkafinwë had been paying full heed to those gathered around the table, but had been watching from the tent flap the movements of those outside, past my guards.

"Thy thoughts, Nelyafinwë?" I had turned to question the foremost of my captains; my eldest son, who sat at the further end of the table, chin resting upon steepled fingers as he pondered the developing issues. Great value did I place upon each of my sons' opinions, though would not be swayed by them against my better judgement. Yet Curufinwë, Turkafinwë, Nelyafinwë – their words always carried the most weight for me.

My firstborn made as if to rise from his seat, to respond to me. Then the _memory_ altered abruptly to a vision, as I beheld him arisen in a far different tent. And his right hand; it was no longer there; but his arm did end in a well-bandaged stump!

'Mandos!' I called in fëa. "What is this I see, that my son is so mutilated? What is this you have me behold?"

Instant was the Vala's answer to me. 'Nelyafinwë yet lives and is no prisoner, even as you prayed of Manwë. Yet _another_ did also add most earnest prayers for mercy unto the King of Arda.'

Kanafinwë, thought I! Kanafinwë would so do; and would he not do all within his power to rescue his brother even from that place inaccessible? Most relieved was I that not a second of my sons was slain. And in that vision Nelyafinwë had looked pained - as with an abiding grief - but _strong_; so much stronger than when he had hung upon the mountainside. The fire of life had always burnt most ardently in that son. Of all seven of my children, even Curufinwë, was Nelyafinwë _most_ like me in that respect.

But his right hand! Ai!

So Manwë _had_ heard me. Was that not something to ponder further? I wondered if, despite the curse upon my House, yet were some of the Valar watching the Noldor with growing respect for their striving. I wondered if the King of Arda had love for me still? But other matters were foremost in my thoughts.

'Nelyafinwë is again King of the Noldor, and in time will he give the Dark Lord much cause to regret what he attempted,' stated I with much certainty.

'Thy sons are brave of heart; that is true. And Nelyafinwë will wreck much damage upon the hosts of Melkor, though will he also endure more. But Nolofinwë is King of the Noldor in the Hither Lands, and Arafinwë rules in Tirion.'

A statement of fact it was. I had enough discernment to know those words no lie to plunge me back to the edge of the abyss - no cruel joke to pain one who had but an instant earlier felt his spirit soar with exaltation.

I could not answer. What to say? _I_ could not think clearly.

'The eldest son of Nolofinwë, Findekáno, it was, who rescued thy son from Thangorodrim. And that with the aid of much courage and determination to heal the divisions between the Noldor, that they present a united force to their enemy.' Námo Mandos continued. 'For the ancient friendship he had with thy firstborn did he venture forth alone. Save this help did he have; that Manwë heard his plea - and thine, proud spirit - and did he send forth Thorondor to give of his aid.'

I would have trembled with wrath and rage had I physical form. I would have been so fired with anger at what I was hearing. But I could _do_ nothing, other than endure the news given me, and know it as truth.

'Findekáno cut off Nelyafinwë's hand to disadvantage him!' I said accusingly.

'To cut off thy son's hand was not the wish of Findekáno. Indeed, bitter tears did Nolofinwë's son shed at his cousin's predicament. But _needful_ was that act, that Nelyafinwë be delivered to freedom.'

I heard, but chose not to understand the implications of Mandos' comment. So angry was I that Nolofinwë was king. Arafinwë I cared not for. Servant king of a servant people; thralls all! But Nolofinwë; how had he finally usurped that which was my right, which was my family's right as the elder house and heirs of my father?

'Let my half-brother crow forth his victory while he may. My sons will reclaim what is theirs. Once Nelyafinwë is restored to full strength, will he reclaim his birthright.'

'Nelyafinwë it was who gave up his birthright, and to Nolofinwë.'

Amongst the bitterest words I ever heard were they: almost as bitter as the news of my father's death and my Jewel's theft. I could not believe it. I could not believe that my trusted eldest son would so do. Nelyafinwë had always known my thoughts on my half-brothers and their families. Then, in a struggle to understand, did it occur that he was still suffering from his trial upon Thangorodrim, and so knowing, had Nolofinwë pressed home his advantage.

But then why had Kanafinwë and Turkafinwë not spoken forth? Why had they not acted if their elder brother was still weakened?

'Thy son acted with wisdom, and clarity of mind.' Mandos made to reject my suspicions. 'Dost thou not recall my pronouncement, that: thy house shall be 'The Dispossessed'; and that of thy Jewels and of the kingship of the Noldor?'

I recalled Mandos' curse clearly enough. But I _would_ not believe it! So he showed me. A vision of what had or was transpiring in the Hither Lands was before me.

Nelyafinwë was standing in the tent of Nolofinwë. Clothed in fine garments with a copper circlet upon his head was he, as befitted his status. Behind him stood his brothers and foremost lords. Not all appeared pleased of expression. Yet my son - he whom I trusted beyond all to maintain my honour - he bowed before my half-brother to beg forgiveness for deserting him, that the main host of the Noldor had endured so much suffering in the crossing of the ice. He bowed before Nolofinwë! He abdicated his right to be king, and his brother's right.

'If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise.'

Not the least wise? Ai!

I felt nothing. I wished I could have departed the circles of the world as, it is said, the Second People do, that I witnessed not the humiliation of that exchange.

Mandos was hovering on the edge of my awareness, no doubt seeking to observe my response. What response was there to give him?

'When is it that you will restore me to my hröa?' Calm did I endeavour to make that statement, and no plea. 'It is said that the severing of hröa and fëa is an unnatural act. It is recorded that it will be the duty of Manwë to restore any Elda to bodily life if we so will it! I so will! I would have again my body, and my rights.'

Not eager to answer me was Námo Mandos; but thought to let me ponder awhile.

Again did I make clear statement. 'Unjust is what is befallen my family, that Kanafinwë, Turkafinwë and the others be deprived of their inheritance by my half-brother and his kin; that Maitimo decides now to be his mother's son and so betray me. I demand what is my right, to be restored again, that I may take up the battle. In your own interest is it. For do I perceive now the reasoning of the Valar; that the Noldor are the best hope to constrain Moringotho without outright war. Do I now perceive your traitorous hearts, that you would aid the Usurpers, that the Noldor be _used_ to keep from them the taint of the Enemy while they are in their childhood! You damn me for rebelling and leaving Aman; yet was it not ever your purpose that I should so do for the benefit of another race?'

No answer. So did I know I was close to the truth.

'Restore me, Doomsman. Seek council with your kin, and see if better plan you can devise than the first - to send me against Moringotho.'

'Council have we already sought concerning thee, spirit of Fëanáro, and that thou may never return to walk amongst thy kin.'

So much for the love of Manwë, I thought bitterly. Had I not expected those words to be the answer; though lawful they were not? I addressed Mandos in a manner most pointed.

'Has Ilúvatar not given thee express instructions that, though Manwë and thyself have some choice in the matter, yet may the fëar of the Eldar not be held captive? If I desire restoration, if I am willing to take up again my life of old, if I have spent time in considering my memories, I may be returned. To constrain me with no hope of restoration is unlawful. To Eru Ilúvatar I make plea!'

'Thou who calls most freely upon the name of the One; know that Manwë has referred thee to Eru's will already, and that His will is thy return be withheld.'

I had not expected that answer. Always had I believed it to be Eru who had set in me such a spirit of fire – that it was He who purposed me for greatness. If He had rejected me, then no way forward was there. No way from the torment of memory and vision. I would not contemplate arguing with Eru – even if such were possible. Naught was left but to close in upon my thoughts. All prospect of joy was as dust to me. All I loved, taken from me.

'Speak not to me again of what transpires in the Hither Lands, jailer - nor of aught else. No interest do I have'.

I would say no more, thought I. If memory was to be my place of dwelling until the end of time; if Maitimo had thrown away all I had striven for in his desire to show thanks for his rescue, then I would craft for myself details of those memories that I _wished_ to endure, and in them abide. I would forge together the thoughts of what was pleasing in my life, and make of them a strong fortress.

So did time pass. Mandos disturbed me not; neither did I speak forth anything unto him. Of the Silmarils I dreamt; in the light of my love for them I bathed and sought comfort. And in memory of my father - he with me in the time before Indis - in discussion, in debate on linguistics, or on history: in those thoughts did I bury myself to assuage my wrath and bitter disappointment.

Yet the darkness about me endured. The light of memory of my Great Jewels did not pierce the darkness that surrounded me, not even with the illumination of the haze of starlight that had heralded some of my thoughts. I could not hold to true joy, even with my mind fixed upon my most desired possessions.

It came to pass that another thought slipped through my guard. A thought it was that I had pushed aside as of pain. But it was there, nonetheless - a memory not of my deliberate will.

Lying upon the richly upholstered couch in my study was I, looking up at the patterns of light that Laurelin played upon the ceiling above me. Sounds from the rest of the house bothered me but little, for the heavy oak doors had I set shut. Her voice I could hear faintly, and that of Arnónë, as they discussed final plans for the later meal: that meal to which she had invited Ecthelion and Serewen. To which she had also invited Rúmil, and without my leave! No matter, I recalled thinking, I would be hospitable, and not cause argument unnecessarily.

I watched the light patterns upon the walls, the shape of trees blowing gently in the breeze, as I contemplated events. Difficult and stubborn of will could she be, that wife of mine. She was never one to easily follow my instructions. But then I had not chosen to wed with one who had a servile nature. Nor would I have. Sometimes she vexed me with her wilfulness to understand others; as she had that day – for I wanted not an attempt to understand _Rúmil_ at my table. But _after _such behaviour there would be more pleasure for me than annoyance. And never did she work against me, but seek of my good. Now that day she had also invited my father, without Indis' company. Not such an easy thing to accomplish was that – but I suspected she had spoken in her soft and wise way to my father's second wife. I knew the forthcoming meal had been planned most carefully, was intended by her for my indulgence, and that my father's arrival was supposed to be a secret kept from me. And so it had been until Nelyafinwë, in his excitement at speaking soon with his grandsire, told me.

Then was Nelyafinwë himself in the room. I had heard him lean against the doors and reach up to free the heavy catch. I had heard him push open the doors that he might creep stealthily to my side. Though I spoke him no welcome, but regarded him sternly, he had hurried to me without fear, climbed up upon the couch beside me and sought to encircle my neck with his small arms. Such a pleasing sensation had it been, to have affection from my son; to know his love was stronger than any fear of my displeasure. I let him rest for a few moments but then raised an arm, to draw him close and encircle him in turn.

"I am sorry, atar," he spoke forth, his voice light with the tone of early childhood, 'that I ruined this day for thee by telling thee amillë's secret."

"Thou hast ruined naught, Nelyafinwë. For we will keep _this_ secret between us that thy mother think her plan has worked. And will I not be always pleased to see my father, surprise or no? But mayhap thou wilt give more consideration before thy pronouncements in future?"

He had promised he would. Most careful was Nelyafinwë with his use of words. Always, was he most careful.

We had stayed there together for some time, talking of plans for travelling to visit with Aulë. The house sounds around us grew louder as the ladies and servants prepared for the king's surprise visit. But we stayed where we were. 'A sanctuary from the nissi!' I had said. And though he understood not my implication at that age, he smiled.

"Wouldst thou not rather go to the smithy, atar? None will disturb thee there." His bright eyes had regarded me with such adoration.

"Not this day, Nelyafinwë. I find I am most happy with the company I keep."

Though I had not always shown it, I loved him so; that copper-brown haired firstborn of my sons.

Then my mood and thoughts were changed.

'Leave me be, Doomsman!' thought I, sensing the presence of the Vala. 'Why do you bother me still? Evil do you deem me, and of evil actions. You give me no hope!'

'I spoke not so, O Noldo. None of the Eldar are evil in themselves, though some of thy deeds can be of certainty, so construed. And there is still hope! Though thou art poised on the edge of the abyss, not as Melkor, from whom _all_ love has departed, art thou. Despite what we believed of thee, despite thy hardening of thy heart; yet doest thou still love. Upon that foundation, if thou wilt, can we build.'

I heard him; but answered with a question that had been at the back of my thoughts since my second vision of Nelyafinwë. 'What was the source of light I beheld? What source of light now illuminates the Hither Lands, for most bright was the sky, and the stars were no longer visible to me?'

'It was the light of Anar.' Vast again did the presence of the Vala seem to me. Vast, and high, and wide! "And the creatures of darkness are scattered before her revelation into their refuge of Angband. The Age of the Trees and of the Stars are ended; the Age of the Sun has begun.'

- - - - - - -

Máhanaxar - The Ring of Doom

Moringotho - Morgoth / Melkor

Nolofinwë – Fingolfin

Nelyafinwë / Maitimo – Maedhros

Turukáno – Turgon

Findekáno – Fingon

Arafinwë – Finarfin

Artanis – Galadriel

Kanafinwë – Maglor

Telufinwë – Amras

Curufinwë – Curufin

Pityafinwë – Amrod

Turkafinwë – Celegorm

Atar – Father

Amillë – Mother

'If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise.' Of the Return of the Noldor. _The Silmarillion_ JRR Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien


	5. Chapter 5

**Flame Rekindled. Chapter Five**

"Fëanor was the mightiest in skill of word and of hand, more learned than his brothers; his spirit burned as a flame. Fingolfin was the strongest, the most steadfast, and the most valiant."

('Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië _The Silmarillion_ J. R. R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien. HarperCollins. p60)

"For Fëanor was made the mightiest in all parts of body and mind, in valour in endurance, in beauty, in understanding, in skill, in strength and subtlety alike, of all the Children of Ilúvatar, and a bright flame was in him."

(Of the Sun and Moon. _The Silmarillion_ J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien. P 108)

Máhanaxar. Recalling thoughts from the Halls of Awaiting.

So it was that Nolofinwë had the victory! And did he not mean to parade it before me, to humiliate me before our father and our people?

Of my half-brother had I been contemplating, even as Mandos had instructed me, though of my own will rather than to comply with his. No purpose of gain would it serve me save this - I would learn to master the situation of my captivity. I would learn to ponder upon those memories that strengthened me or brought me of joy or of comfort. To my own thoughts only could I turn in order to make sense of the inevitability of my continued existence, but had I not ever been self-driven, so was this as another challenge unto me.

Instruct me as you see fit, Námo Mandos, and I will but turn it to my own ends. Nelyafinwë is free, it is true, but the oath-breaking son of Indis is king in his stead. My firstborn gave away the birthright of my House as a thanks offering, as payment for his rescue. What interest do you think I now have in aught that befalls the Hither Lands; save you tell me my sons have reclaimed that which is lost unto them? Save you tell me the Great Jewels are taken back from the Enemy? Only a matter of time will it be before one or more of the seven - one of the six had I thought in that instant, and with much pain at the knowledge of what I had done to Telufinwë - seek of opportunity to reclaim our stolen treasures. Though I understand that in no manner may the power of the Noldor overthrow Moringotho, yet may my sons do him great and dreadful harm that he knows of the depths of anguish and suffering; may they take back from him of the unsullied light he stole from me.

And I will bide of my time as I seek to grow in strength of thought, if time it is in which I exist. Yet are not these Halls of Awaiting within the Realm of Arda? Are not the Quendi of Arda? Thus it is that I realize myself to be within the time I have ever known, though my perceptions of the passing of such may be altered. So will I seek to gain what I can from memories while I am unlawfully held prisoner here: though mayhap not in the manner the Valar require of me.

Now had I been recalling a particular occasion in the year of 1233. My father had ordained three days of festivities in which there had been the usual feasting and entertainments of music, dance and tale; and competitions there had been amongst our athletes. I would have won in all events had I so desired to enter the contests, but it was not of my nature to make show of my prowess for other's entertainment. Was I not the prince, the firstborn of the king? Let others entertain _me_, had I thought. No grievance did I have against such sport, and indeed, participated regularly in training and competition in the privacy of my house or at times in the arena with Tulcavaryar or Ecthelion. And had I, at that time, done something I did but rarely; I had changed my decided course at Ecthelion's request, for the sake of my father's honour, and participated in the javelin and the race in the arena. Was that not more than enough I deemed; for if I participated further would the sports become no true competition. Did not all know what the outcome would be? None there were as swift, as strong or as skilled as I, and let any who are foolish enough to question my assertion look to the records in Aman.

But that half-brother of mine, that usurper of my father's time and affection, greatly did he love to hear the praise of the crowds ringing in his ears. At that celebration was he to do all in his power to win such acclaim. Not that he entered the events I had. Nor would he have. He wished to win!

Nolofinwë had participated in the long race: that which required of endurance rather than of speed, and the path of which led down to the coast nigh as far as Alqualondë before returning to the city. Many an athlete completed the course to fall at that last test, at the crystal stairs that led up the side of the hill of Túna to the great gates, or at the further two flights of stairs that led to the arena. He was not one of them; he finished first!

My half-brother participated on the second day in the archery contest, in which he came third, (never was archery his strongest point), in the wrestling, the early bouts of the quarterstaff, and in the tests of skill in riding, which again he won. Then on that third day had he ridden in the races that were five circuits of the arena. Had he not been first in that event, though Alcarin pushed him close, (and Kanafinwë the Swift closer still in years to follow!) So it was as I had expected it to be, and though far from happy was I not overly perturbed. I knew he was strong, I knew he was steadfast in all he undertook to achieve. Was his sire not also mine? But then had Nolofinwë ridden proudly back and forth before the crowds, waving gestures of acknowledgement of their support, and turned his beloved horse to face the dais whereupon our father, she who was his mother, and Anairë, who was then his betrothed, sat.

"My king and father; I do dedicate all honour of the events I have won to thee. For it is thy example in excellence that I have but followed."

And my father had smiled upon him. King Finwë had praised of his second son before all!

Well said did he consider his words to be, to win more honour for the king than I. Had I not made every effort to contain my anger at that display. But it was a slight intended to show forth his challenge to me, had I thought. So be it! Still were there the finals of the quarterstaff to take place, and that event between my half-brother and the Lord Fionu. That lord, who sought ever to serve his prince, would willingly concede his place in the contest to me. I would show Nolofinwë the calibre of the one he thought to challenge, had I decided in that moment. I would bring him to lie in the dust at my feet, and most swiftly.

We were seated upon a second dais to the right of my father; my family and I. Behind Nolofinwë's field of vision were we that he would not see me move to speak with Fionu nor enter the arena until challenge was given. None there were who could nay say me the right of contest, neither could Nolofinwë refuse challenge least he appeared craven in front of all. So I made to rise from my chair and in that same instant her hand was light upon my arm.

"Wilt thou not stay, Finwion?"

Her use of that most intimate of names always caught my attention, for so she had intended. Softly spoken were her words, her gentleness a covering for her own strength of will. Though her eyes were upon my half-brother's performance, in fëa was her attention solely given over to me. So was her plea to me - her counsel - of touch and of word and of spirit. Not alone were we that she would use just of speech, for she was ever careful of what she said before our sons.

I had looked again to the wide arena, to my half-brother riding to and fro upon that white horse of his, (did he not insist upon a white horse of his own once he was old enough to realise Tyelperocco would bear me alone?), and my anger at his presumptuous manner burnt strong. But I had noted her plea! Always did I listen to my wife, though not always take of her advice. She had continued to address me in fëa without waiting upon my reply, as the babe, Kanafinwë, became restless upon her lap.

'What valour would there be in thy giving of challenge to Nolofinwë, in showing that thou canst overcome him as most assuredly thou would, my lord?'

The hand she had placed upon my arm as a gesture of comfort was reluctantly withdrawn to tend further to our son. She had made of soothing sounds to him, that his face brightened, that he repeated back to her with delight. But I felt the wave of her clarity of thought reaching out to me as a promised and much desired embrace of restraint.

"Wilt thou not stay with us, Finwion?" she asked again. "For thou to step into the arena, onto the field of contest would cause some, who are less wise, to think that thou didst view Nolofinwë truly as a challenge to thy own strength and skill, which is of course an absurdity. Give not fuel to those few who would so think, I beseech thee, beloved; for to let thy half-brother have his day shows only how noble of spirit thou art, how much esteemed by thy sire and in no wise jealous."

I heard her request, the sense in her words. Her influence had given me cause to halt momentarily, for always in our youth did I desire her caress of enlightenment almost as much as her caress of hand. And in that moment had I also become aware of Nelyafinwë, seated to my right, and he shifting position as though to rise and stand at my side if to go forth was my intent. But it was Káno for whom he stood. For in that instant had Kanafinwë climbed down from his mother's nurturing and with the laughing utterance of two of his few words, of "Aiya, Nelyo!" had he made swiftly round the back of the chairs for his brother's company on most unsteady legs.

Only the day before had he first walked unaided. So did the parent in both of us watch of that instant his progress. Thus were we both to see our inherently graceful son stumbling over his own tiny feet in his great hurry, to be caught up, just in time, in the arms of his watchful elder brother.

An event of little significance it was, for though quick to master their hröa, none of our sons, nay not even I, had managed it in a day. But it was a strange memory that stayed with me in life, I realised. It was one that still resounded in the place of my doom: Kanafinwë's determination to run before he could walk; his elder brother's care for him, and she looking to me with that small, secret smile that spoke more of her understanding of me than very many words.

'Why it would be like envying Kanafinwë's first steps, and he but a babe, when thou art indeed a mighty prince,' she had added in thought, with a touch of humour.

I had felt my rage caught up in the shimmering net of love and of wisdom she had cast over me. Though she had nigh over made her point, how I had loved her for her stubborn perseverance; that she would so often say of the right words to give me room to ponder, to reflect upon my own words and deeds that they be not rash. And of course she had been right! Though Nolofinwë's action had undoubtedly been intended as a show of his maturing strength, yet had I sought to demonstrate my superiority in that event would my father have been less than impressed with me. I would not react to my half-brother's baiting in a matter so trivial, for so to do would belittle _my_ dignity.

"It is even as you say, lady wife!" Giving a silent acknowledgement in fëa, I had lightly touched her cheek with my fingertips and taken again of my seat.

- - - - -

'Do you not observe, Námo Mandos? See how I do consider the one you continually instruct me to! Of Nolofinwë do I think, yet will I have a measure of control, of mastery of that which I will ponder, and not just for your entertainment'.

Silence.

No answer was forthcoming from my jailer. Did he even pay heed to me any longer, I wondered? But no matter! With his presence or without it was I alone.

- - - - -

So had I returned to my forging of memories. I would weave a rich tapestry, as had my mother while she lived, and that of all that held meaning for me. And if, mayhap, anything should occur which gave me any leverage against Mandos, would I not have used it? The Valar would never restore me until Eru commanded of them, for they hated and feared me. So, disadvantaged, would I be held in that place from which none, not even Moringotho, could escape. But I was not Moringotho. I would learn to do _more_ than endure.

Again was I in thought of the third day of that celebration, though nigh the end and at the waning of Laurelin it was. I had not initially returned to the house with her and our sons, but spent some time in the company of Fionu (who was by then nursing bruises from the final event), and that most trusted of my father's advisors, Lord Tulcavaryar. Though I knew the wisdom of remaining silent regarding my half-brother, yet were my thoughts still restless that matters were not as I believed they should be. Late indeed did I return, and that after Kanafinwë was abed and much of the household partaking of rest from the excitement of the last days. Nelyafinwë I spoke with but briefly in the study. My eldest son had spread what few books and scrolls were available, over the desk in his pursuit of information on Tulkas. Much taken was Nelyafinwë with any trials of strength or strategy.

But a feeling of heaviness of fëa was come upon me at that time that I could not be free of, neither would I impose it upon my son nor any other. As oft in such moods had I sought solitude, though not in my workrooms or in crafting on that particular occasion. It was to the bathing pool in the south tower that I turned, without even calling for Maneharyamo to attend me, to bring of oils and linen towels and fresh clothing. I had entered the tall-pillared room, crossed the tiled floor with its portrayal of the Maiar of Ulmo, discarded my robes and stepped into the warm water.

So good had it felt to take of rest. So good had it felt to have all weariness of hröa and of fëa dissolved by the heated and scented waters of the pool, and to drift for that time in thought. Yet was I not to be alone for long! But a few moments it was before I heard the sound of soft footsteps, of silken garments falling upon the tiles, of another slipping into the water at the further end of the pool and swimming to me. No need had I to open my eyes to know it was she, but I opened them nonetheless. She had made to swim alongside me, to kiss lightly of my cheek in greeting, but I drew her into a close embrace: my beloved, my wife, she who understood me better than any.

"I thought I might find thee here, Finwion," she had said with a smile of pleasure that I was not in as bad a mood as she had anticipated. "So have I dismissed Maneharyamo for the time being. If it is agreeable to thee, will I give of my assistance in his stead?"

Looking up to the side of the bath, I saw she had brought with her all that was necessary; all I would normally have required to be refreshed. In truth, would I rather have the ministering of my lady's hands to such a task than those of a servant. But still was my mind not at rest.

"Nolofinwë would claim the hearts of the Noldor for himself. He plays to the crowd for their praise, and for my father's."

"Shush, beloved!" She placed an elegant finger upon my lips, and made a mock frown. "Nolofinwë does but seek to copy of the example of his father and his half brother, that they are honoured by the people. See thou not how he does admire and emulate thee when he can? He would seek to follow thee in many things, not just in the sports, for he perceives in thee much of worth; much that Finwë honours. He does not intend to give thee of challenge."

"Mayhap thou art right? But I think not! Cunning is he that he seeks to replace me ever in …."

"Shush, my dear lord! It is for thee to rest thy thoughts for awhile," said she with some firmness. I did not finish my argument. She silenced me by the touch of her lips upon mine. Most persuasive could she be.

'Again doest thou indulge of the comfort of that gentle lady whom thou didst drive from thee! Not a thought hast thou given of late to the grief thou didst cause her. Not a further thought hast thou given to the valiant deed of Findekáno by which thy eldest son was freed! No way forward is there for thee if thou wilt not pay heed to my guidance. I would have thee consider the results of thy rebellion, spirit of Fëanáro. Know thou that very many of the Noldor, that two of the sons of Arafinwë are slain.' The sombre presence of Mandos drew me from that most promising of contemplations.

'What of _my_ sons?' I replied of an instant, for did I not fear to hear the worst? That his statement would be followed by 'And _thy_ sons also are slain!' But nay, thought I. My sons are strong; Nelyafinwë and Turkafinwë are strong and skilled captains.

"We will begin!"

Again came to me those hated words of the Doomsman; that he believed he had means to make bargain with me. But did it strike me then that Námo Mandos had a way of disrupting those moments when I recalled of my wife! Mayhap he was not the only one with a means of control over what was pondered and when? May it be that, should I wish of his presence I had but to think upon her, and he would attend me as if he were some servant? Most interesting to me was that thought, but it was swift and I meant to keep it close. So did I take up his demand to play again at the matching of wits.

'Always are we beginning, but never do we progress, O Vala!' I addressed Mandos, who gave forth of the impression that he loomed over me in some high vaulted cavern. 'And I thought Nolofinwë was the one you wished me to think upon, not Arafinwë's sons?'

"So he is!"

Many of the Noldor, including two of the sons of my younger half-brother had been slain. Mandos wished me to know of that! Had I not warned them all that long and hard would be the road? Had I not told them there would be need of their swords? Though no great love did I have for my half-brothers' families, yet a flicker of sorrow crossed my thoughts that more descendents of Finwë were dead. And Aikanáro, he who had the light of flame in his eyes, had spent time in his youth with Turkafinwë and Curufinwë upon exploration. I had known him! Which two were dead I would not ask, that Mandos thought his words overly concerned me. Yet did I have memory of Aikanáro at my house in competition with Curvo; both laughing and calling the result of their unarmed contest in the training hall, 'undecided'. I saw, as a passing flash of light, the silver-blue robed Angaráto dancing with his wife, Eldalotë, at Morifinwë's betrothal. And then I beheld Findaráto, again for an instant, at festival upon Taniquetil running eagerly to be at the side of the golden haired Vanya maid, Amárië. I saw him take up her hand most lovingly to his lips, and she smile radiantly in return.

She had not come with us, the one whom Findaráto loved. Another nís who remained in Aman, in loneliness and in sorrow was she. She, and Findekáno's beloved, and Curufinwë's wife, and Kanafinwë's wife, and _my_ wife! And Nolofinwë's wife, Anairë, also, it must be said.

Why was it that our nissi would not come with us? Why would those of the House of Finwë not follow of their lords when so many others did without question? None of them were weak, none a feared. I had not understood it; save all had been cozened by the Valar.

Alone had I felt; beset by a ring of enemies. Though so many of my kin and my people were around me, though my newfound depth of hatred I had to nurture, yet had I felt so alone when she made her refusal to accompany us. Far worse than her refusal to come with me into exile from Tirion had that moment been! My father slain, my beloved Jewels stolen from my care, and instead of loyal support would she make my emptiness in that long night complete. Empty heart, empty arms, and empty bed!

So be it! And did she not learn to regret of her decision? But I had thought she would follow. That as she, in the fullness of time, had come to me at Formenos, so would she do again once in her right mind. Until that time we made away with the ships had I expected to behold her again, to have word brought that she had ridden in pursuit and begged to be re-united with me. Ai! So had my mind at times pondered; but had my heart known I would see her not again after what transpired at Alqualondë ……I willed not to think on that; I willed not to think on her at that time with Mandos still so intent upon 'beginning'.

Now I had been told that many of the Noldor had been slain, as well as Arafinwë's sons. I pondered as to their whereabouts, for none did I discern to be with me in that place. Not since my death had I known the presence in reality of any save my keeper. As if the Halls of Awaiting had been created for I alone, did it seem. Or as if with Moringotho freed, I had been the one chosen to occupy his solitary prison.

'Elda art thou; not Vala! Think not that thou couldst endure the torment Melkor endured before his release.' Mandos made rebuke of me.

'No? Is my fëa not from Eru, as is Moringotho's, as is thine? Is it not recorded of Nienna, in the Namna Finwë Míriello, that while the Children are not mighty in life, yet are each of us in fëa as strong as you! Say you Doomsman that _you_ could not endure what Moringotho did?'

No well-mannered way to gain information from Mandos was that, but I had thought to try of varied tactics. I would know of my sons, if they yet lived. I would know of any attempt made to avenge my father and I, and to reclaim of my Jewels. But not again would I beg or plead.

'And Moringotho thou didst release, despite his deeds and false confessions of repentance. One law is there for the Eldar, and another for the Valar!'

Mandos was not one to react to my taunting, it seemed. Rightly was it said of him that he was immovable, or mayhap was I merely too trivial for him to belittle _his_ dignity!

"Of Nolofinwë art thou to ponder."

"Which particular aspect of Nolofinwë? You make order, but give me no direction. As if you believe me to know of all your thoughts and reasoning it is!" Most frustrating did I find the situation, yet I could think not how to manipulate Mandos to give forth of the information I desired.

I thought again of my half-brother as a child, and he in the hall of our father, looking to me at the dance.

"See thou not how he does admire and emulate thee when he can?" had that wife of mine said, when gathered in my arms. Neither lie nor deception would she have ever knowingly attempted to make. What was it she saw in Nolofinwë that was hidden from me? What was it she _still_ saw in him those many years later that she spoke to me in his defence?

Again I saw him in memory, riding with all our family at the head of the host of the Noldor towards Valmar for the festival. He had endeavoured to speak with me on that occasion and I had endeavoured to pay heed of him. Not overly arrogant were his words I recalled, nor boastful was he of his achievements. He had sought to speak with me in earnest of family and of pursuit of knowledge, and had admitted that I was the more learned. Had it not occurred to me that I rather enjoyed the conversation; though I had told myself at the time it was done to please my father. A most gratifying festival had that been for me, and that Kanafinwë gave forth of his first rendering of song before the whole of the assembled Noldor and Vanyar. That she had thought twice about her loyalties, and had been at my side right willingly, preferring to be my wife than a servant of Aulë; that my father had been so very proud of all his family and their achievements before the High King. Ai! It should have endured! That closeness between us should have endured!

Mayhap it would have done, had Nolofinwë remembered his due place!

'Thou hast asked of thy sons, so this will I tell thee.' Thus came my reward for playing Mandos' game, thought I; the knowledge I so desired. Yet my thoughts had lingered for an instant on the awareness that Nolofinwe was truly our father's son in appearance, whereas I ever held something of the countenance of my mother.

Whether my jailer was aware of my thoughts I knew not at that time. He continued apace. 'Thy sons are safe as yet, spirit of Fëanáro. Thy firstborn has excelled in courage and leadership. He has performed deeds of surpassing valour against the hoards of Melkor. As if a flame burns bright in him it is, that he is unquestionably his father's son. Many do draw unto Nelyafinwë at his fortress upon Himring, and it be not taken. Indeed, does his brother, Kanafinwë, now there abide with his people. Thy other sons have fared less well; for Turkafinwë and Curufinwë have lost of their lands and been driven to seek refuge with the eldest son of Arafinwë, while the lands of Morifinwë have been ravaged and he has fled with the remnant of his people to join with his brother, Pityafinwë's scattered folk.'

So overwhelmingly forthcoming with information had Mandos been that I instantly suspected some sort of trap. What would he have me concede? Into what confession of guilt, what vain attempt at humbling was he leading me? But did I know that all my sons yet lived, were ominously safe 'as yet', and that Nelyafinwë was more than a force to be reckoned with. My firstborn; he from whom I had expected so much, was I not proud of him that he was acting as he should. Did I not also know then that it was Angaráto and Aikanáro who had been slain, and that Turkafinwë and Curufinwë took refuge with Findaráto. Would that prove yet an interesting situation, for no match in cunning or skill in battle did I consider the eldest son of Arafinwë for those two sons of mine.

"And will not grief come of Findaráto's noble decision, " said Mandos enigmatically. 'Yet his stay in my Halls will be but brief, that he be purged of his guilt and healed of his sorrow.'

Unlike I! Was that the Doomsman's point? I thought not. Though valid, was it something I could do naught about. Some other plan had he, some other issue of import for me to consider.

'Think thou of Nolofinwë,' said he, pointedly.

I considered not to give him of answer. I thought to ponder, to brood further on the news given me. Did I not know what I wished? But never would I fear confrontation. Whatever the Doomsman had planned for me would I meet with a will. So I thought again of that deed of the eldest son of Indis as reported to me by Alyatirno and Almon, two of my captains, that he had been overheard in council and the letter he intended to send to his brother intercepted and brought to me.

They had made plan, or rather Nolofinwë was informing Arafinwë of his plan, and that to see me driven from the city by order of my father. To fabricate proof of my disloyalty to Finwë was my half-brother's intent. To show through lies and false witness that I rebelled not merely against the Valar's dominion, but against my own sire's rule and had planned to make of myself King of the Noldor, to lead forth all of the people from thraldom. In his letter was I to be accused of calling my father's actions in bringing our people to Aman an act of the greatest folly, of one seeking an easy path of an unendingly dependent childhood, and no challenge. Was it in writing that three would bear witness against me, that I had accused Finwë of being no fit ruler, saying that he held title but no power in Tirion. _Never_ would I have said such things about my father! (Though had there not been times when I thought my father denied true kingship by the Valar. Either he had command of what was done with his people, or he did not! How then was I commanded to appear before the Valar for a deed they said was ill-done in Tirion?)

Nolofinwë's aim it had long been to drive my sons and I forth, but had he thought himself not able to sunder me from my father's love. Had he even thought to unking the king if it be the only way he could achieve his goal! And did he not, as it transpired, achieve all that he wished for? But that last news brought to me, that letter was something to which I must give reply of the sharpest kind. Nolofinwë had intended to make such a case against me to my father and his assembled lords _before_ my arrival at the council, that there would be no choice but Finwë pronounce words of exile upon me and make the son of Indis his heir in my place.

'Lies!' said I. 'they were lies, made to destroy the love my father had for me. But he could not do it! Ever did my father love me best! Do you not see, Doomsman? Lies spread by the people of Nolofinwë, couched in half-truths, as ever they must be for deception to achieve its goal. My half-brother was not content with wishing to drive me forth by will of the Valar; he would have our father do it! Was I to do naught for truth and justice?'

No answer came to me, and I realised I had made more of the emotions I felt at that time than I intended. Had I made more of them than when I was forced to stand before Mandos in the Ring of Doom! But he already knew of my pain. He already knew of my reasons for drawing sword, at Máhanaxar.

"Thou doest speak again of lies and of deception. And doest thou know not, even yet, who was the most deceived? In his hatred of thee was it ever Melkor's intent to entice thee to the path of falsehood, and slowly corrupt of thy very soul. Dost thou still not understand, O Noldo who prided thyself upon thy great learning, that thy loyal lord Alyatirno was one foremost in heeding unto Melkor's whispers? And that to give thee of false council and report was ever his aim, that he be given many lands himself to rule over once come into the Hither Lands."

I had known it; though not at the time I had made threat of Nolofinwë. Though I would say not so to my jailer, had I paid close attention at that mockery of a trial given unto me. Soon enough had I dismissed Alyatirno to the undertaking of most trivial tasks at Formenos, and under Turkafinwë's keen supervision. Had I not left that 'loyal' lord on the shores of Araman with my half-brother's people when those truly loyal to me sailed east?

"And the Lord Almon was also under Melkor's sway," stated Mandos.

I had known it, though to my great regret not until after the ships were burnt at Losgar and my youngest son with them.

'The Deceiver spoke forth his whispers, and many of the Noldor were deceived. Aye, this I know, jailer!' I had replied, though not without anger. 'Did I not approach the Valar with words of warning; did I not have my father's support to speak with Manwë of the influence of Moringotho upon our people? And was I not dismissed by Manwë as a fretting child, as one who spoke out of turn? I know that thou thinkest me to be but very unimportant save in the making of things to delight thy kind. And who set free that fell Vala to so corrupt of the Noldor? Who risked of the peace of their own realm and of the Eldar thou had summoned hence, out of loyalty to that one of their kin, and then could defend neither land nor folk from his deeds?'

Silence was there, that I thought to have driven Mandos from me by my unveiled contempt. But it was not so. After some time did he speak again, and in the same tone as he ever did. Most solemn was he.

'Still hast thou not done as I first bid thee; thou hast taken not council with thyself that thou doest know thyself for who and what thou art. For all thy insight and skill of mind, were thou deceived, and caught in the web of malice more tightly than most. Thou hast fallen most grievously from thy bright and noble beginning, spirit of fire. In pride didst thou think thyself beyond fault or reproach, that all thy utterances were truth; that others held them so to be and no insult. Yet didst thou hold all Nolofinwë's utterances as meaning insult and dishonour to thee of the most malicious kind.'

I answered him not. These were words he had spoken in part at that other encounter. I knew his argument, and he knew mine. Fully justified had I been in my thoughts and deeds, and not willing to give account of myself to that self-appointed judge. Neither was I so inclined to do at that moment. And _never_ had I spoken insult to any without it being deliberate!

Yet did I know well I had been deceived: by some of my own lords, by some of those closest to me, and by the influence of Moringotho. I knew from my encounter at Formenos his aim had ever been to wrest from me my Jewels, and to destroy of me. I knew from the moment of my death that it had been but utter folly to give hurried, ill-considered pursuit of my enemy. And did I not know I should never have abandoned so many of the Noldor; should not have set fire to the ships that greater numbers had there been to bring against the Dark Lord; that my youngest son yet lived! Was it not part of the nature of being unhoused, that the fëa, disembodied, perceived that which it life it may well not have?

I knew that some of those I thought loyal unto me had believed loyalty was best served by bringing forth of false words pertaining to Nolofinwë. Did the Valar think me an utter fool? Could I not so reason that my half-brother also had false word brought to him, and that Moringotho was behind many of the lies? I knew this at Formenos, and it was a grief most sharp that I had not realised it sooner. Yet did it not alter all my cause for complaint. That Moringotho spread rumours did not negate the Valar treating the Eldar as caged pets, as amusements; neither did it nay say the enmity between Nolofinwë and I.

Nolofinwë had sought to become my rival; for the love of our father, for the place of his heir. Had he, in pride of his Vanyar blood, thought to be a better prince and leader than I. Some of the lies spread about me were of his doing! Some of the accusations brought against me were results of his envy. And he had meant to drive me from Tirion come what may. He had worked most cunningly against me as we had journeyed north, and claimed lordship over all of the Noldor by right of the will of the people, saying I was only king by the will of the Valar, whom I distained. Was he then my friend?

I was king because I was the eldest, because I was the beloved of our father, because it was my right!

Ai! So much folly! So much falseness had we all succumbed to who should have known better.

I should have seen through all the lies! I, who reckoned myself to be the greatest of the Noldor should have seen more clearly what was to come, that my people had been better led and better prepared. Yet did I know I had not always recognised the truth when I heard it. Truth and lies and half-truth! How to distinguish when even Manwë Súlimo was deceived by the lies and promises spoken unto him that he believed Moringotho to be cured of all evil?

'I will show of thee a truth, proud spirit!' So had Mandos paid heed to me, though I suspected he had never really done otherwise.

'Thou didst make complaint that Nolofinwë swore to follow thee. That he said 'Thou shalt lead and I will follow'. Thou hast claimed he meant it not; that he lied; yet did he not follow thy lead into exile and against his better judgement?'

'He followed because he would not let me have undisputed kingship,' said I in reply. But a sense of heaviness was upon me, that I knew it not to be the whole truth. 'He followed because his sons so urged him, and because many of the Noldor called upon him to remain as their king. Little love did they have for me, despite my desire to set them free.'

'So thou dost say, spirit of Fëanáro!'

In _his_ hatred of me did I consider Mandos to be enticing, nay commanding me to a path of entrapment, to swiftly humble me to his purposes. If I could but find of a way to make stand, to hold against all he put forth, thought I, for to walk slowly and dismissively from his presence was no option. Neither was to yield!

'Nolofinwë followed thee into the east;' the solemn voice continued, 'though was he forced of necessity to take a path most cruel and treacherous, and that because thou had deserted him.'

'He followed because he was too proud to return; too feared of thy wrath over his actions at Alqualondë and those of his people. He followed out of hate of me. He could have returned to Eldamar, had that been his wish.'

'That he followed in conceit of his own, and in rebellious spirit, is so. And also was his intent to avenge thy father. But he followed because he was the chosen leader of a people thou hadst made restless and discontent; he followed because, like thee, he would in no way turn back from a task once undertaken, even though he knew in the end it would lead but to his doom.

A vision broke before me then, like unto the one of Nelyafinwë and the one of the traversing of the Helecaraxë. Long must it have been since those visions, for I all but recoiled under the onslaught of sight beyond my control.

A white horse I beheld, a mighty and swift horse galloping across the open lands. Familiar did that place seem unto me, that I knew it to be land I had passed over in wrath filled haste, and under the stars. Looming ever closer was that mountain range, the three tall peaks of accursed Thangorodrim.

And upon the back of that horse was a mailed rider I recognised; travelling in great haste and purpose was he.

'Nolofinwë seeks combat with Moringotho!' Mandos stated as fact. 'Thy half-brother follows thee still.'

I could not turn from that vision had Mandos given me chance. For I was bound fast to the pursuit of the Enemy, as it seemed was my half-brother. Had I hröa, my heart would have been pounding at that sight and at the thought of what was to come. I wished to ask naught of my jailer, but I need must know more. And if the Enemy _was_ to be seen in vision, then so might something else be, of my own desire.

'What has happened?' I asked of urgency. 'What has happened that thou doest name this a truth to show me? Why does Nolofinwë ride alone, and with no army; why does he who would be king, so ardently seek of his doom?'

'Why didst thou ride ahead of thy army? Why did thou seek of thy doom?'

'Vengeance' said I. Though to myself did I ponder I had thought not of doom, and that I was mighty enough to come upon Moringotho and exact vengeance upon him single-handedly. Fey and foolish had I been in the wrath of my spirit, that I threw away such opportunity to overcome once and for all. But Nolofinwë was never as rash as I. Why was he so focused upon this deed? Why was he alone?

'Long have the Noldor held Moringotho in siege: but no more. He is broke his bounds that the hosts he gathered in Angband cause much devastation and swiftly. Thy half-brother is king in the Hither Lands; yet has he suffered loss; is he sundered from his kin by a vast number of enemies. Naught of aid could he or Findekáno bring to those two of the sons of Arafinwë who were slain; so are their people scattered. All of thy sons, save thy eldest, are driven from their lands. It does seem for all thy eloquent words and promises that the Noldor are in utter ruin, so is Nolofinwë filled with wrath and despair.'

'He follows the path I took.' I had heard Mandos' words, but the realisation of what was about to befall was upon me. 'Nolofinwë does follow my lead to the end.'

The Doomsman watched with me it seemed, and though given to no show of emotion, did I think at one moment there was a flicker of sorrow at what was unfolding.

To the very gates of Angband Nolofinwë rode, but no Orcs came upon him, no Valaraukar issued forth to stop the single Noldo's approach. And challenge he gave in no uncertain terms! That half-brother of mine, whom I had long despised, he called forth Moringotho to come out in single combat, naming him craven, and lord of thralls who held naught of honour.

"My sire met thee with drawn sword upon the steps of my brother's house' he gave cry. 'No coward was Finwë, to hide in the depths of the treasuries until dragged forth! My brother sought of thee in single combat, and thou didst reply with a host of thy servants, with Valaraukar and Orcs to bring him down. Yet no coward was he, that he met them undismayed; never did he tremble in fear, as dost thou! And now am I come for thee, and thou shalt know me for my father's son, and full brother in heart and in courage to Fëanáro!"

The madness of wrath burnt brightly in his eyes, and he struck mightily at the doors and sounded forth his horn that none save the dead could be unaware of his presence.

Thus did Moringotho issue forth from that abode wherein he had long hidden. Slowly did he come forth, though with great noise as of thunder. For he _was_ afraid; by his movement and stance did I realise he was not as he once had been, and that there was as a deadly weariness, a great pain upon him; even upon _him_!

'The Silmarils!' I cried forth, filled with burning desire to gaze upon them. 'The works of my hands it is that do drain him of his might. Though he craves of the light, yet in his greed to possess it does it destroy him!'

So stern was Mandos' response. 'Behold thou the truth!'

There did he stand: he whom I hated beyond recall. The first I had seen of him since the time I dismissed him forth from my door with words of most deliberate insult, it was. The Enemy; the Power of Terror and of Hate, Morgoth Bauglir, foe of the world. _My_ enemy! Clad in black armour was he, with a vast shield in one hand and the mighty hammer, Grond, in the other. And upon his head was a crown of iron in which was set the Great Jewels.

Ai! My heart's love! Yet I could not claim them nor take them back into my keeping. The very sight of their beauty atop that horror, though in vision, filled me with an echo of the music I had sung into their creation. As if my own heart did again give beat it was, and the glory and radiance of that which was mine glimmered life anew into my fëa.

My Jewels!

But the combat had begun.

They circled each other, those mismatched combatants, each hampered by emotion, I could see! For as that Vala knew fear of an Elda, yet did Nolofinwë know of blinding rage. Again and again did Moringotho hurl aloft his dread hammer, and make to bring it down upon the small figure of my half-brother, to crush him into the dust. But he was swift, that second son of Finwë, and avoided each blow, striking back wounding glances seven times with his ice like sword, with Ringil. Each time did the Vala utter a terrible cry of anguish that echoed throughout the land. And I was glad!

'None of the Valar canst thou overcome', they were the words spoken me by the messenger of Manwë. Does this hold also for my half-brother?' I asked, though did I observe most carefully the battle. Did I know that the strength of Moringotho, though limited, still left him as mighty beyond measure. As greater in endurance than even his opponent!

No answer came.

So did I know the outcome of that moment. As I watched, though the glory of the Silmarils ever drew my eye, yet was there a glory also upon Nolofinwë that he fought so valiantly, that he was one who gleamed before that darkness as a bright star.

We should have made stand together, he and I! The unbidden thought pierced through all my illusions that I knew it for a truth. Had Moringotho's well placed lies not so divided us, had we given of battle shoulder to shoulder, could the sons of Finwë have defied the pronouncement of Eonwë! Could I but have fought beside Nolofinwe and added of my strength to his, we could have overcome.

But I, in my folly, had hastened to my doom. Now did it seem my half-brother did likewise.

Thus it came to pass that Nolofinwë tired, that it seemed his movements slowed and he grew weary. Thrice did Moringotho bring down his shield upon his valiant adversary; thrice did Nolofinwë struggle again to his feet, bearing up his own broken shield in an attempt to continue. But then he stumbled upon the rent ground, falling backwards into the dust, and Moringotho put his foot upon my half-brother's neck.

That memory of Nelyafinwë reaching swiftly to take up the falling Kanafinwë, to offer aid to his younger brother that he be not hurt; it echoed in my mind, that if I had breath I would have gasped aloud at the realisation and anger that filled me.

"No!" I had cried fiercely. 'May it not be so!'

At that moment Nolofinwë had summoned of his remaining strength, and with a last and desperate stroke he hewed at the foot that was upon him, that black blood rushed forth, smoking, and filling the pits on the ground left by the many vain blows of Grond.

And so he died!

In vision, and before my eyes; though I had no means of knowing if it was a long past event, the eldest son of Indis died. Naught was there I could do to give of aid, to take up he who was fallen even had I so wished.

I saw that Moringotho was breaking the body of his opponent, treading him underfoot, and the Vala uttered of a call to summon his wolves to him. But the mighty king of the eagles descended to rend at the face of Moringotho, and bore away the body of the king of the Noldor out of my sight.

Long did I ponder of all that I had seen and heard. So did Mandos leave me be for some time. Now the sight of the Silmarils had stirred again in me a desperate longing to reclaim them. Not that I was in any position so to do! And I thought upon what I had witnessed, that the Noldor faced utter ruin, that my sons were scattered. Little hope was there, I considered; little hope save for Nelyafinwë, who, with Kanafinwë, held yet his lands, and would continue to prove himself his father's son. But many were the truths I understood from that vision; many things that should have been, but for my lack of love for the sons of Indis, were not. Mayhap she had been right about him, that lady of mine, as she had been right about other things? Mayhap Nolofinwë _had_ sought to follow me in his youth out of admiration? Mayhap it had been long before I taught him to hate of me? Better to ponder awhile upon Nolofinwë, thought I, and without Mandos' instruction so to do; for had he not, in his ending, shown of much that even I could admire? In truth was I saddened at his demise, as I had never thought to be.

'Is he here? Is he in this place? ' I asked after a while.

'Of which spirit of the slain dost thou speak?' came Mandos swift reply.

'Nolofinwe! Would that I could speak with my brother.'

'Thy _brother,_?' questioned Mandos. 'Namest thou Nolofinwë thy _brother_?'

So again, did Nolofinwe have the victory! But no longer did I feel a sting of humiliation at the knowledge.

- - -

Telvo/ Telufinwë - Amras  
Nolofinwe – Fingolfin  
Nelyafinwë / Nelyo – Maedhros  
Kanafinwë / Káno – Maglor  
Moringotho – Morgoth  
Findekáno - Fingon  
Arafinwe – Finarfin  
Aikanáro – Aegnor  
Curvo – Curufin  
Turkafinwë / Turko – Celegorm  
Angaráto - Angrod  
Morifinwë / Moryo - Carnistir  
Pityo / Pityafinwë - Amrod  
Findaráto - Finrod


	6. Chapter 6

**Flame Rekindled: Chapter Six**

A/N I am so very sorry at the long delay in posting chapters of this story, and others. Hopefully I will be able to post more regularly now.

(Disclaimer: All is Tolkien's except the interpretation and any mistakes. I make no money from this)

With many thanks to Ellfine for Beta reading.

"… there is in the Halls of Waiting little mingling or communing of kind (of Quendi) with kind, or indeed of any one fëa with another. For the houseless fëa is solitary by nature, and turns only towards those with whom, maybe, it formed strong bonds of love in life."

(The Later Quenta Silmarillion. _Morgoth's Ring_. J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien. P223)

Máhanaxar. Seventh Age. Recalling thoughts from the Halls of Awaiting.

Think not that, of a sudden I had great love for Nolofinwë – it was not so!

The recent image of those objects of my heart's desire still burnt brightly in my thoughts, shining their hallowed light through the darkness of my captivity. _Mine_, I say! I knew the light was of the creations of Yavanna – but it was _I, _not _she_ who had been foresighted enough to house it in a manner that it be ever preserved. The greater light of the Trees _was_ Yavanna's – it was true. The lesser, but surviving light of the Jewels was mine alone!

And my Jewels had been made that they would survive until the End. Try as he might, Moringotho could break them not, nor destroy them. None could break them - none could unlock the Silmarils; not even Aulë. None save I could release that light – though in so attempting would my heart have been broken, that I would have perished. For the Silmarils contained more than the blended light of the Trees - they contained a portion of my fëa pored into their making, that I could _never_ have made their like again.

So then I thought. So then I believed.

But though holy in themselves, the Great Jewels had a way of illuminating darker tendencies and desires where present. It was as if they gave cause for all to show of their true self, and no facade.

Thus it was that even as I accepted Nolofinwë in a manner I had never before considered; memories of my life poured out afresh, as a fast flowing torrent before me. Those memories were of the days of deceit; of acts of anger and cruelty; of the battle of wills with my brothers, with the Loremasters – and with the Valar who cozened my people and who betrayed my mother and father. And I felt shame that _I_ had behaved in some respects ignobly. Though at the time had I thought _all _my deeds necessary – I perceived that some few had been matters of my personal will alone, for no greater purpose than to deliberately demean those who displeased me.

Much discomfort did that awareness bring me - I who considered myself the noblest of Finwë's children. I had thought myself the highest example, save my father, of all that it meant to be Noldor. Yet had I not in my acts of cruelty but emulated those whom I despised? Then the half-truth of the reason the Valar brought the Eldar to Aman struck me anew, and as a diversion from my self-incrimination. Nothing had ever been said to my father, or to any of the ambassadors of the three kindred concerning the Aftercomers. No message did Oromë give to the Quendi that those who followed him were to be supplanted. Would the clans of the Eldar have left the land of their birth knowing that in so doing they handed their birthright to a younger, lesser race? I think not! No more would I have handed my birthright to Nolofinwë!

The secret that had become secret no longer – that the Secondborn would supplant the Firstborn and defraud us of our inheritance from Eru Ilúvatar – was wilfully and ignobly withheld from us. Was it any wonder I could not endure such a thought, but planned to return the Noldor both to freedom and to the lordship that was ours by right?

That a second race, whose life span was but a moment in time, would be set to rule over the Hither Lands in their ignorance was beyond my understanding. I could not perceive the purpose of Eru in so doing, that I thought it a plan of the Valar alone. Those _Great_ Ones either cared no longer for the whole of Arda, that the Hither Land become chaos or, more likely, believed that such weaklings as the Secondborn would be easily controlled. None among those Followers would there be like unto the Noldor; like unto Fëanáro to give them of challenge.

Yet what did I truly know of the Second People, save that which Moringotho had purposed I should know? What did I know of my brother's intent in those last days, save what Moringotho intended?

My mind was in turmoil that, ponder though I might, I could see no clear way forward. What was truth? When did it all begin - that opening of my mind to deception that I saw not the lies set before me? Nolofinwë had of certainty been proud and jealous of what he deemed his – but in my chosen blindness to anything worthy concerning he and his brother, I had not noticed his inherent sense of honour. Had Nolofinwë always been honourable – more honourable than I?

"Half-brother in blood, full brother in heart will I be," had Nolofinwë said before Manwë upon Taniquetil. I wondered then, for the first time, what it had cost him to speak thus? That he who was acting king - who ever sought to better me, and yet could not - would stand down for my return, that it was the only way our father would take up again his kingship.

And in the memory of my vision of the Silmarils, the knowledge that Manwë had willed reconciliation between the two High Princes of the Noldor was no longer just the thought that he had wanted me to wear my Jewels that the Valar might take them from me. Mayhap had Manwë wanted the sons of Finwë reconciled for another purpose? That there might be healing in Aman; aye, even as _she_ had said to me - but there was _still_ something else; something else that should have been, but was not - because of me?

'I would speak with my brother!' I again addressed Mandos in thought, believing my belated acknowledgement of the truth I had chosen to ignore gave me some right to so speak.

Silence

I felt no sense of the presence of Mandos. Rather did it seem that I was in a large and empty cavern – that my thoughts almost gave echo – that I almost perceived a draft of air in that place of darkness. But I would have my answers from Nolofinwë, so I focused my will to call again upon the Vala.

'If Nolofinwë is in this place – even as I believe – I would speak with him of matters past that I know what was said to him of me.'

'The fëa is solitary of nature, as well thou dost understand, spirit of Fëanáro.' Mandos sounded his usual solemn self, but somewhat more distant - as if his words echoed through that same, large empty cavern.

'Say you that _all_ spirits here are in solitude, with but thee ever for company? A miserable thing indeed then it is to be parted from one's hröa!' I made to draw him to me, that I had his full attention.

'Thou speakest only of that which thy limited mind can yet comprehend, O Noldo! Though many are solitary for a time that they rest and heal, that they are purged of any guilt or wrongdoing on their part, still does great love binds fëar in this place, as in others. Though thou dost yet know of love, think thou to possess it in such capacity, or to have inspired it in any other?'

'Limited mind!' thought I with a sudden flash of temper! But also I thought that mayhap I was having effect upon the immovable Doomsman to so provoke him. 'Say thou that none here so love me, nor I them – that I know not the meaning of great love? Is that not what thou wouldst have me realise, O High One? That _none_ do love me? Not my brother – _that_ I can understand; though still would I speak with him! Not my youngest son – and that I unwittingly slew him! But my father, my mother love me, and I them! If love is the bond that unites in this place, why have I not spoken with either of them?"

The silence of Mandos gave no answer to my question. Yet I began to consider whether the Valar had truly forbidden me company, or whether there was any hint of truth to my jailer's implication. Were there none who loved me enough to be with me - who I could draw to myself?

'My parents both love me!' I stated assuredly. 'Even if none other in this place feels such emotion - _they_ love me well – and I them. None loved their father as much as I loved mine!'

I would not believe otherwise. I _would _not!

So I turned my thoughts to time spent with my father. I recalled a particular day when I was but a few years old, and he dismissing Silwë and others to give me extra lessons in the study of language, for I had exceeded all that Niecarindo could teach and would know more of that instant. So proud of me – of my interests had my father been. I remembered those times we spent together, seated in his study, or in the inner courtyard, by the fountain – while he spoke of his delight in the mastery and development of words – and I sought to likewise delight.

And again, I thought upon a time of walking in the hills in his company. Far from Tirion had we wandered, he and I, glorying in our strength and freedom – supposed freedom? But he was king of a growing people and took seriously his duties – he did not wander the hills with me as often as I wished. Would that he had never wandered the hills at all, and avoided that fateful day when he encountered the Lady Indis.

There were none like my father! None so valiant, so noble of appearance, so eager, so thoughtful – so kingly! None who had my love and admiration in such measure – and when my mother left us, I had loved him all the more.

But as I so considered, did I not recall wondering why my mother had chosen not to return to me – why she would not respond to my desperate call to her in the Gardens of Lórien? Had I not also wondered why my father had so soon insisted on remarriage if he loved me well? And thoughts from my early youth returned that I had caused the death of my mother; that I had not been enough for my father. Though he had _me_ – he wanted more! He had wanted to bring many children into the _bliss_ of Aman.

'It is no wrongdoing to want many children, as thou doest know of thine own experience. It is no slur on the worth of a firstborn child to want of a secondborn. Neither did Nelyafinwë act as if such was a slur upon him - though thou begat son after son! Thy firstborn; never did he feel the others were a sign he was not enough for thee – save when Curufinwë was born. Even then did he strive so that love and kinship overcame thy ill-shown favouritism, that for the most part, thy sons were as one.'

'Thou doest say I have failed as brother, son _and_ as father? Be gone from me, you who know not what you judge when you look to those in hröa.'

So did Mandos leave my presence in the manner that I could detect him not at all. (Though I ever suspected he was watching me most closely). Departing words he spoke to me:

'He whom thou namest brother takes of much needed rest from the most foul manner of his death. So close was he to Melkor when he perished that his fëa could have been taken if intervention had not been made. Now he sits in the shadow of his thoughts, in the company of his firstborn son. For Findekáno was slain by the same spirit that slew thee! And Arakáno, who was earlier slain, watches over both.'

Arakáno slain? I had known not that was the case. That most impetuous of Nolofinwë's sons – slain! And Findekáno? He who had rescued Nelyafinwë from his torment, who had oft been in the company of my sons in the earlier days that _she_ had said it seemed we had _eight_ sons at times. I had not overly approved of that friendship between cousins; but they were no children, and were careful not to be in my presence overmuch. Then came the time of strife – and Findekáno came to our house no more.

'My brother has two of his sons to keep him of company in this place,' thought I. 'No surprise it is that I may not speak with him. What need has he of me, when he has those he loved – and who loved him - at close hand?'

So again did I endure in my solitude, though I pondered that so many of the Princes of the Noldor were now slain, and that it seemed those of my blood alone had strength to endure. I pondered also on what could possibly continue to keep me from my father – from my mother.

Never would I believe either had not loved me. Yet I felt a strange sense of emptiness as I continued to pursue my chain of thought – as if in some way the love I thought to recall had but little substance.

That my time spent in the company of Mandos had in some manner blunted my perceptions was my first concern. That place, it was not the one we Quendi were meant for – not the place Eru would wish us to exist for the lifetime of Arda. I knew that! My mother would have realised that in time - and returned to us, had my father not ended their marriage.

I had not been enough for him! Though I tried to be one in whom he could take pride – one of whom he could say: 'My child is the most excellent in skill and in knowledge, and in wisdom and nobility,' my father had wanted more sons – had wanted daughters. Surely he did not think to have another child as mighty as I – none other could compare with me! Of certainty Nolofinwë was not learned enough to offer serious competition.

But he had tried!

As he had grown to maturity he pitted himself against me many times, in many differing situations – knowing always he would fail. Had it always been thus with him? That he knew he would fail against me – that he knew he would fail against Moringotho. But ever he _tried_! As I had realised the hosts of the Noldor could not overthrow Moringotho, yet had sat not idle in grief but given of pursuit, so had he ever given of pursuit of me.

Again I realised a grudging admiration that I had hitherto not realised. That my brother never gave up trying to win our father's love from me. Or had it even been thus? That in the memory of my Jewels I saw of a sudden that mayhap he had not wanted to be loved greater than I - but as well as I?

My life – it should have been different! I should have been wiser! I should not have so despised Nolofinwë that I lost his love and his loyalty.

As I thought again on my brother's valiant, last battle - of Moringotho crushing him underfoot - my sight was drawn to those that were of my creating. And it seemed to my interest, that the light was accompanied then by song. Not the deep, rich singing of Kanafinwë, but something both lighter and darker. Like unto rain falling into deep pools - beautiful, powerful and profound – the sublime voice rose in a form of incantation, then of a sudden was ended. In my mind I saw the Silmarils rise of their own accord from the crown of iron atop Moringotho's head, - for he was stilled, as if entranced by the song - and move towards my outstretched hands until their light totally engulfed me, obliterated all else in thought or reality. My heart rose in joyful anticipation of their possession - then I was in another place.

"Hail; king and father!"

I turned abruptly; angrily, to the sound of the words – aware that the vision of the Silmarils was gone, that I was seemingly clad for battle in hauberk and armour and thick cloak of red. It was snowing, and there was much snow upon the ground that the hoof prints of many horses could be made out.

Turkafinwë it was who had given call, and he riding past the high steps upon which I stood. Mounted on his black horse was he, with Huan and a pack of lesser hounds running at his side.

He bowed his fair head, giving a salute of acknowledgement to me. I raised my hand in return to him, and to Curufinwë and to Morifinwë, who with a small host of lightly armoured riders were following in his wake towards high, open gates.

Most clear it was that they rode to battle – to confrontation on that cold, crisp day. And I watched them depart into the wilderness until I could no longer make out their forms.

Then with a swirl of snowstorm white, the scene before me had changed. Nolofinwë was there – upon his favourite horse, garbed for battle with his bright sword in hand. Hale and well did he appear, as a leader of a mighty host. I saw that at his right hand rode Arafinwë, while at his left was his second son, Turukáno – both similarly attired. Then there was the sound of horns – a summoning to form ranks. My field of vision widened, as if I had retreated some distance that I saw those three _were _foremost of a host of hundreds of Noldor cavalry, forming ranks before the city of Tirion. They appeared to be preparing to ride to the attack, and in deep snow.

'What is this?' I wondered with some perplexity. 'Always have I seen memories of my own, or sight of what transpires in the Hither Lands. Yet this is neither! Has Moringotho returned to Aman? Is Nolofinwë already returned? Is he who I thought to be resident in the same halls as I, to be early released?'

Again my perspective changed that I was standing in the Ring of Doom, looking to the east. The sound of ongoing mêlées rent the air - the clash of metal upon metal, a whirling sound that I had no knowledge of, and a heavy drumming. Upon the snow was much red blood – very much blood - and tangled, twisted bodies that seemed charred and darkened. I looked across the plains to behold Tirion aflame against a darkened sky in which no stars shone. And I grew cold, that I knew it a vision given me of what was yet to come.

'There is no hope' thought I as a certainty. 'There is no hope for the Eldar, or for Aman!'

"Always is there hope - whatever comes to pass, Finwion."

The voice had not the power of the earlier song, but it was as an unexpectedly tender caress. A female voice it was; one that I knew well.

"Nerdanel!"

But she gave me no reply.

Still I felt chill, as with the biting cold of the vision of traversing the Helecaraxë. Snowflakes were falling again, obscuring my surroundings – crystal individuality, white and shimmering landing on my hands, on my hair and shoulders.

Then of a sudden there was the warmth of a cup – a 'farewell' cup, finely crafted and bejewelled with rubies – being passed to me by a lady of some high status. Garbed and hooded in heavy cloak of grey was she.

I was struck by the sense of immense sorrow that flowed from her, that for an instant I thought it was Nienna herself; the Lady of Pity and Mourning come to offer the 'cursed one' her comfort. But it was in truth one I knew far better than Nienna. As our fingers touched around that cup she passed to me, I knew with the sensation of a lurching heart, that it was my wife.

"Nerdanel! Say this is but dream – that thou art not truly in this place?"

Ai, I wanted her with me again with a sense of growing warmth and longing, as she had been before she could see only wrong in me. I wanted not to be alone – I wanted the great love of which Mandos spoke. But I wanted her not to have perished! I could not have both – mayhap I could have neither?

The faintest of smiles was upon her lips, as if she understood my dilemma. "I await thy return from this battle-to-be, my lord and my love. (Were those words not a most welcome draught – for after the manner of our parting I had thought never again to hear her speak fair to me!) But think not that I wait in idleness, neither that the nissi of thy house have no battles of their own to fight."

"Battles, lady?"

I felt slight concern at her words that she gave me of warning. So did I will to touch her face with my fingertips, as I once oft had, and to show I paid close heed. And I _felt_ the softness of her skin; the drawing of her breath; the swift beating of her heart as physical sensation overwhelmed me. No dream – no vision – it was! She gasped, also surprised; looking up to me with eyes widening in confusion of her own. Then I was alone and in darkness.

But I felt different! I felt almost – alive?

I, who had called down the never-ending darkness to be my doom – I felt almost alive!

'We will continue, spirit of Fëanáro, son of Finwë'

Did I not expect the attention of Námo Mandos as soon as I had inadvertently thought upon she who had been my wife? Did not such thoughts _always_ bring of his attention?

'So, thou hast returned to thy taunting, jail master! And with what shall we continue, I ask of thee – my memories of Indis, mayhap? Thou thinkest I will comply more eagerly with thy wishes now that I perceive Nolofinwë to be admired in the manner of his death - a true son of my father? But for what reason should I continue to play thy game?'

Mandos' answer was immediate, and in a tone neither compassionate, nor haughty.

'For knowledge of the vision which now perplexes thee, most learned of the Noldor – and for the reason that, while Nelyafinwë yet lives, and Kanafinwë, and Pityafinwë - yet are thy other three sons slain through their vain and cruel pursuit of their oath!'

- - - - - -

Moringotho – Morgoth

Nolofinwë – Fingolfin

Nelyafinwë - Maedhros

Findekáno - Fingon

Arakáno – Argon (Perished in the battle of Lammoth.)

Turkafinwë – Celegorm

Curufinwë – Curufin

Morifinwë – Carnistir

Arafinwë – Finarfin

Turukáno - Turgon


End file.
